


Demon of Temptation

by Anonymous



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Consensual Violence, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Foot Jobs, Handcuffs, Incest, Light Dom/sub, M/M, M/M/M, Nipple Piercings, On the Throne, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Parent/Child Incest, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Rimming, Sexual Content, Spanking, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Tied-up Bard, at least a little bit because Leggles just LOVES it, beneath the dinner table, this is my ticket for the seven hells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bard travels to Mirkwood for the first time after the Battle of the Five Armies an indecent proposal from Mirkwood's royal family awaits him (which happens in Chapter04, Chapter01 is solely TxL, Chapter02 & 03 TxL and TxB, Chapter 04 & 05 mainly LxB, Chapter 06 mainly TxL, Chapter 07 mainly LxB, Chapter 08 TxBxL, Chapter 09 TxB and TxBxL and Chapter 10 LxB).<br/>Well - I fear this has developed into a 60k PWP and a kink/smut fest (and i am not even sorry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the elves nor Bard are mine, they are Tolkien's and PJs, I just love to play with them - no money is made from this.
> 
> *Set some months after the Battle of Five Armies  
> *AU: Legolas returned with his father to Mirkwood after the Battle
> 
> *WARNING: This story contains explicit (non-abusive) sexual content between father and son; if this is not to your liking, please leave now. you've been warned - i am well aware that this is not everybody's cup of tea. All characters 18+

 

**Demon of Temptation**

**~~**

“Does he know?” Legolas asked calmly when silent footsteps approached him from behind, his gaze directed outside as he watched the last light of the day disappear over the great forest.

“Since when is our relationship common knowledge? Of course not.” Thranduil replied dismissively, his voice already carrying a certain note of annoyance, yet his arms sneaked around Legolas’ waist when he came to stand behind him. The question itself was entirely dispensable, nobody knew about the true, forbidden nature of their relationship that was so much more than ever should exist between father and son.

“Interesting – I wonder how you will avoid a conflict of interest whilst he is here...” the younger elf mused thoughtfully, leaning back against his father’s strong body, letting his head fall against his shoulder until their eyes met.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow upon his son’s words – there was no conflict of interest, at least he did not see one as both have decided long ago that they could take to bed whoever was to their liking. “Legolas, I warn you!” he admonished; where his son’s skin was warm and silken, his words were ice-cold.

“Of what?” the young elf asked sweetly, playing with the innocence he had lost long years ago. It was hard to concentrate, to keep his composure with Thranduil’s lips grazing along his throat, nibbling the tender skin with his teeth in the way he knew his beloved son loved best.

“Do not meddle in my affairs.” It was another warning, and to emphasize his words his teeth sank deeply into the skin right across the collar-bone until the distinct metallic taste of blood tickled his tongue. Legolas’ eyes fluttered close, and he could have screamed from pain, yet he remained silent, biting his tongue not to give his father the satisfaction he was certainly after. A treacherous passion mark would bloom in a few hours, and in silence Legolas cursed – on this very position it was nearly impossible to hide from prying eyes.

“I never would” Legolas stated, his voice already uneven und hoarse, but it was the truth he spoke. Ever since he had first seen the mortal man in Laketown, his handsome face would not leave his mind, yet he had never pursued his desires once he had found out about the not-so-secret involvement of Bard with his own father before the great battle.

“I highly doubt the sincerity of your words, and know that I have not forgotten about your foolish actions when you ran into the wilds, against my will, disobeying my very command. It was entirely inappropriate and out of place – punishment is yet to come!” Never before had Legolas defied his father’s orders, but it was so much more than simple disobedience that still troubled him deeply - his pride and, worse his heart was hurt, even now, months after the incident.

“Don’t divert.” Legolas said nonchalantly, ignoring his father’s searching hand that slipped beneath the waistband of his leggings, both successfully pretending that nothing of it had ever happened, as if Legolas did not care at the slightest that he would be punished for following Tauriel in blind rage. The truth was that he couldn’t explain the actions himself, it was indeed the most inappropriate thing he had ever done in his long life and at times he greatly wondered that Thranduil was forgiving him all too lightly.

But right now was definitely not the time to discuss those dreadful matters, having his mind occupied with something entirely else – dark-haired, mortal, extraordinary good looking, named Bard, new King of Dale.

Insanity occupied Legolas’ mind when he spoke aloud what he had been thinking the entire afternoon. “Have you never thought about a third party? Never? Not even a little?” he inquired, mischief ringing in his voice.

Thranduil’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief as his mind processed his son’s words. His voice was stern as he spoke again, gripping one of Legolas’ wrists firmly, and a second later he was spinning the younger elf forcefully around to face him.“Legolas, I warn you once more. Stop this madness now.”

“Now come on, don’t be so prudent. Have you?” Legolas asked, continuing to push the matter, but his request was met with silence and a roll of those beautiful and expressive blue eyes.

“Oh so you have!” he squeaked delightfully, blinking in amusement, and being entirely certain that he finally had the answer to the question that burned in his mind. And the more he thought everything repeatedly over, he found that this mere idea was beyond thrilling, especially with the dark-haired man as perfect candidate, paying their Kingdom a visit by tomorrow. Legolas’ voice cracked as he continued to speak; it was impossible to hide his excitement, even if he knew that he only would fuel his father’s temper with this question. “Of whom did you think, Ada..? Galion, Feren? Somebody else? Tell me, please”

Again, his question was met with silence and before he could say another word, he was shoved roughly against the nearest wall, his hands pinned firmly above his head, making it unable for him to escape (not that he wanted though, it was exactly what he had planned, hoped for all along). But of course he tried, yielding without resistance was entirely out of question, especially if the tormentor was his own father. The Prince squirmed and fought against the painful grip around his wrists, even tried to kick against his Sire, but no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to escape the strong hands – the strength that was veiled by the kingly robe sheer took his breath away, leaving a distinct state of arousal behind. Just a little more, Legolas thought to himself as he finally stilled his movements, just a little longer and Thranduil would finally lose his patience with him, giving him unwittingly exactly what he was shamelessly lusting after. A broad smirked danced over his lips before he continued his impertinent teasing, fueling his father’s annoyance further.

“Does the poor bowman even know what you desire of him, where your preferences lie between the sheets? For some reason I highly doubt it..”

The sole reason for his words was to ignite one of those infamous outbursts of fury Mirkwood’s proud King was famous for. It was insanity, and Legolas knew it, yet the naughty smirk remained, even broadened as he watched anger flicker through Thranduil’s eyes. However, it were the last words that Legolas was able to speak for a long time, being silenced with his father’s lips alone until he squirmed between the wall and Thranduil’s body, his father’s free hand entangled in his hair, scratching along the sensitive skin in a not so gentle manner. The kiss was searing and breathtaking alike, tongue and teeth involved until both were short of air. Involuntarily, Legolas grew weak in his knees by passionate kiss alone, almost sliding down the wall and wouldn’t it have been for his father’s hands and body pressed against him, he certainly would have fallen. No matter how much his mind was already fogged with lust, the idea which he had harbored long before he was pinned against the wall, never left his wicked mind and as soon as his mouth was released he continued to inquire, his eyes now sparkling with the dark shades of lust and desire.

“Tell me, beloved Ada – what exactly have you planned whilst he will reside in Mirkwood as your, **_our_** honored guest?”

“Pray tell, my son – does this talk arouse you?” (of course it did, and Thranduil could feel it distinctly against his thighs). His words were more a statement, never really meant as an inquiry. “I assume it does, yet I do not know if your father’s filthy words are suitable for those pretty ears of yours.” he whispered with the same mischievous smile that could be found on his son’s lips, finally letting go of Legolas’ wrists.

“Oh, they are even filthier than the words you’ve whispered into my ears this morning?” Legolas asked naughtily, doubting that this was ever possible, recalling **_WHAT_** exactly his father had named him during their frantic lovemaking with him being helplessly tied up against the wooden bedposts this very morning. “Now I am truly intrigued.”

“Such a pity that I won’t share them with you.” Thranduil shook his head as he muttered his words in an almost depreciatory tone.

_‘Oh you will, sooner or later’_ Legolas thought to himself entirely self-assured, adding aloud. “A pity indeed” he said apologetically, as he let his body slide down the wall until he came to rest on his knees, his fingers already busy unlacing the leggings that Thranduil wore beneath his robe.

“Oh you don’t think you can bribe me with that, do you?” Thranduil asked rhetorically with a laugh, bringing his jewel-adorned fingers under his son’s chin to make him look at him. When their gaze met, a shiver crawled down his spine – there was something in his son’s eyes that he had never seen before. Passion, longing, desire – he had long grown accustomed to those emotions he actually should never arouse in his own child, but what he saw right now was different. _‘Maybe utter determination, worries, fear?’_ he mused in silence, watching how Legolas’ delicate fingers finally finished their task.

“I never would” Legolas lied bluntly, using the sweetest and most innocent tone he could manage to find in his state. The chances that he would succeed were high indeed, after long centuries he knew perfectly well how he would get from his father whatever he desired, having no shame left in that matter.

Almost violently, he pushed Thranduil’s hand away from his face, allowing him free access to what he desired to do. With a few movements, the leggings pooled around his father’s ankles and a self-satisfied smile curled on the edge of his mouth when he discovered that he was not the only one that was affected by their encounter. Absently, Legolas licked his lips in anticipation and drew in a few deep breaths before he parted his lips, playing with his tongue along the slit of his father’s cock, tasting him with closed eyes. It was shortly before he encircled the head delicately with his soft lips, licking almost innocently over its head. Soon, he found himself moving his head up and down the length in a steady rhythm, his tongue brushing against the prominent vein on the back of it repeatedly until the first distinct moans fell from his father’s lips.

“Look at me when you pleasure me with that pretty mouth of yours” Thranduil demanded hoarsely, placing one hand against the cold stone wall for support, overwhelmed by the divine feeling his son’s lips brought to him. Not a second later, Legolas obeyed the breathed command, opening his eyes tantalizingly slow to meet his Sire’s gaze; would the situation have permitted it, he would have smiled, seeing the love and affection in those eyes that were so alike his own.

Legolas suppressed the heavy urge to gag as he moved along the thick length until his lips brushed against the base, and tears involuntarily found their way into his darkened eyes, but he did not care anymore, swallowing his pride as he swallowed his father’s cock.

_‘Gods! It feels so good I want to cry, I want to scream!’_ For Thranduil it was sheer impossible to resist the urge to roll his hips against that eager mouth and soon the last remaining flame of self-restrain was inerasable extinguished; within seconds he was thrusting deeply into his son’s mouth in a firm and steady rhythm, meeting Legolas’ very movements over and over again.

“You are incredible” the words tumbled from his lips even before he knew he wanted to say something aloud, losing himself completely in the pleasures that the wet mouth around his cock brought to every inch of his millennia old body. So close, so very close he was already, feeling the distinct waves of orgasm building within him with every thrust.

In the moment Legolas could feel the treacherous and foreboding twitching against the walls of his mouth, he stilled his movements immediately, withdrawing his lips and tongue entirely.

“So? What are you planning to do with the Dragonslayer once he’s trapped inside your halls?” Legolas inquired breathlessly, highly affected by what he was doing only seconds ago as he expectantly peeked upwards to meet his father’s furious gaze.

It was impossible to hide the self-satisfied smirk that hushed over his lips when he saw him struggling, trying to regain his composure. The wrath that would follow was as good as certain and exactly what he was hoping for in secret. Lately, he indulged more and more in his father’s frivolities, enjoying the rough hands against his delicate body, those subtle commands that were breathed hoarsely against his heated skin in the forbidden throes of passion. “By the way – have you heard the rumors among the guards? Bedding an actual Dragonslayer is like a natural aphrodisiac – no wonder that you are insatiable ever since we have returned from Dale”

“Legolas!” Thranduil managed to choke out, his voice heavy and quivering with wanton need.

“Tell me and I will resume whatever you bid me to”

“Please…” It was indeed a rare occasion that one could hear Mirkwood’s proud King beg for something, and it made Legolas chuckle quietly.

“Tell me! Tell me every single detail of what you have planned and I shall continue without further hesitation” Legolas offered gently, looking right into his father’s flushed face – for the blink of an eye he even pitied him for the cruelty this truly was.

“For Valar’s sake YES I will – once you’re done.” He groaned in pure annoyance, unable to fight his desire a second longer. “And now please shut up and finish what you have started, or shall I make you?”

“Nay, no need for this right now” he breathed, victory and self-satisfaction audible in his voice as he was looking up innocently under his long lashes before he resumed his task eagerly, never leaving his father’s eyes whilst his head moved up and down again – the sinful image was enough to push Thranduil finally over the edge, coming deep down his son’s throat, screaming his name in heated desire.

 

Thranduil was true to his promise. When the new day awoke, Legolas was utterly destroyed – just as he wished to be - but had obtained all the information he desired, and so much more, including the permission to offer the incident proposal to the new King of Dale.

 

**~~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 02**

~~

Time seemed to slip through Legolas’ fingers – it was already midday and he still was far from being ready, having lingered much too long in his father’s bed this morning, scheming how to seduce the Dragonslayer whilst his exhausted body relaxed. The night which he had spent in his father’s arms had been extraordinary rough and long even for their standards, and he still was tired. It always had been a mystery to him how his father managed to look entirely unaffected, no matter how little he slept – usually, Legolas was still soundly asleep when Thranduil escaped the bed to resume his official tasks. Today was not any different, he was alone in his father’s chambers, searching for the perfect gown he would wear today. Carelessly, he flipped through the expensive garments, dismissing one by one until he hold a silvery brocade robe in his hands. “Aye..” he mumbled to himself with a smile, letting his fingers dance over the rich fabric, feeling its coolness against his skin. Indeed it seemed to be perfect for today’s occasion.

Bard’s arrival was scheduled for the early afternoon, so it was indeed time to get fully dressed, becoming presentable again; after all, he had an utterly important task to fulfill and should indeed look his best, the prince mused. A look into the mirror, however, told him something entirely different – dark shadows graced the skin around his eyes, his silken hair was a tangled mess – and worse, a prominent passion mark blossomed right behind his pointy ear.

“Ada, I hate you – you did this on purpose, you marked me visibly” Legolas cursed as his fingertips brushed over the love-bite. It would certainly take some time and effort to completely cover it. Legolas was so occupied with this task that he did not even notice that Thranduil had returned from his kingly duties, coming to stand beside him.

“You look stunning, my dear” Thranduil said affectionately, brushing a strand of Legolas’ still unbraided hair out of his son’s face, admiring the overwhelming beauty his son truly was. And he was his, entirely his own, in every way imaginable.

“So do you – as always” Legolas mused absently with a soft chuckle, his mind was already somewhere entirely different. It was impossibly hard to resist the younger elf found, when the incarnated temptation just stood an inch away. In truth Legolas never had been able to resist when it came to Thranduil, being drawn to his father like the moth to the searing flame. Of course, today was no exception – on the contrary, as the rich gown Thranduil had decided to wear highlighted his otherworldly beauty even further. Within brief moments, Legolas’ fingertips were ghosting over the intricate brooch made of pure silver, further up along the prominent vein until they reached his father’s pointy ear. “Yet it seems as if special occasions call for specific measures?” he breathed whilst his fingers painted useless patterns across the smooth skin, touching the spots which he knew his father liked it best.

Within the blink of an eye, Legolas’ wrist was encircled by his father’s hand, his fingers removed from the skin which he so much desired to touch. “Of course – it has never been any different in my Realm, has it?”

“Nay” Legolas shook his head with a smile, entirely unimpressed by the forceful grip around his wrist. They were so alike in this, cherishing the lavish splendor his father’s Kingdom had to offer, the expensive gowns and jewelries, the amenities ranging from gushing waterfalls to private pools. “And I would never complain, and never leave again” he added on purpose and just as anticipated the grip around his arm tightened.

A smug smirk on the prince’s face immediately followed Thranduil’s words.

“Don’t.” Thranduil warned as Legolas’ free hand began to sneak downwards into a very distinct direction. “Instead get yourself ready now, time is passing quickly.” he demanded, finally letting go of his son’s hand and seating himself down on the massive chair that stood in the corner of his room. Of course, Legolas had his own chambers but he rarely used them ever since their relationship had changed, sneaking into his father’s rooms whenever it was possible – and mostly stayed.

“Presentable?” Legolas asked when he was finally done with his hair, turning around with a broad smile to meet his father’s eyes. By now, his hair was neatly braided in his usual way, yet he looked entirely different with the silvery circlet that he so seldom wore, decorating his head now.

“More than presentable, my love.” Thranduil stated, gesturing for Legolas to join him on the armchair. “But such a pity that I can’t take those fancy gowns off you immediately. I should make you wear these more often”

“You are indeed insatiable.” Legolas muttered in played annoyance as he came to sit in his father’s lap, facing the other. “I wonder if those rumors might be true indeed and it will only get worse when the actual dragonslayer arrives.”

“As far as I remember you have never complained – but I will try my best to keep my hands of you in the future, at least the next few days, as I might indulge myself elsewhere.”

“Shut up, will you?” Legolas hissed in played annoyance, grabbing a fist full of his father’s silken hair.

“Make me.” Thranduil laughed and not a second later his lips were claimed in a possessive kiss with Legolas’ fingers tangling into his hair rather firmly. Automatically his own arms found a comfortable rest around the other elf’s waist, pulling his son into a tight embrace.

“Legolas, I warn you!” Thranduil whispered between heated kisses as his Legolas’ hand slipped determinately beneath his robe, palming his already hardened cock through the silken leggings which he wore underneath. “We can’t” he added hastily, yet unwilling to push Legolas’ eager hand away. Truth to be told it simply felt too good again.

The lack of time was the only reason why Legolas did what he was doing. The sole reason was to leave a feeling of wanton need and desire in his father’s mind, making sure with every stroke that the distinct state of arousal certainly would not leave for long, painful hours in which he couldn’t find release.

A smug smirk danced over Legolas’ lips, meeting his father’s eyes as he spoke. “Such a pity indeed, Ada. Not even something? Please?” he questioned lecherously, hoping that Thranduil would give into his pleas; the chances that he would were indeed high.

But this time, the younger elf was mistaken. “No! And now get off me – instantly!” He heard his father say determined, but his voice quivered already ever so slightly with forbidden desire. Another would not even have heard the sublet difference, but the days that Legolas wouldn’t notice were long past.

The prince did not even think about following the orders, instead he increase the pressure of his hand against his father’s cock, speeding up the pace of his strokes. Not a moment later, he found himself shoved roughly off Thranduil’s lap, landing on his feet with a smile. Apparently, he was entirely content with himself and what his hand had sparked in his father’s mind and body as the smug smirk only broadened, seeing the treacherous red color spread all over his father’s cheeks.

“You insolent brat, you did this on purpose!” Thranduil muttered when he finally understood why Legolas had touched him in such a manner. A slap onto Legolas’ backside followed the words immediately, making the younger elf squeak delightfully.

“I never would do such a thing” the Elvenprince lied, hopping playfully away out of Thranduil’s reach.

Thranduil arched one eyebrow at his son, giving him a warning glance. “Have you entirely forgotten all manners that I have taught you?” he questioned his still smirking son. His voice was ice-cold and regal all of a sudden.

Legolas shook his head when he replied, his father’s icy tone let a shiver crawl down his spine. “NAY I have not forgotten anything.” Long years had he been entirely indifferent to the very tone, but now it never failed to arouse him.

“Apparently you have, Legolas. It seems as if it is time to teach you some discipline again…”

Legolas blushed scarlet, remembering one of their recent role-plays rather vividly – it was enough to let him instantly grow hard beneath his robe as the vivid images rushed through his mind. What was meet with hesitation from the younger elf’s side at the beginning, soon had pushed him towards the edge in a way he never thought possible, losing his mind in a world where pleasure and pain reigned, mingling in the most sinful way.

 _‘Gods’_ he whispered absently to himself, being entirely completely lost for words, staring at his father with wide-eyes. They have tried many rather wicked things lately, but this scenario was certainly among the top three. Yet he could never know if this wouldn’t be changed soon; every time when he thought it cannot get ANY better, another surprise awaited him – it had never been any different those past five hundred years and the younger elf doubted it would change now.

“Oh my dear” Thranduil said with a soft chuckle, coming to stand right in front of him and placing an affectionate kiss onto his forehead whilst his hands took both of Legolas’ into his own. “You never cease to amaze me. I never knew just HOW much you have enjoyed to lie over my knees, being disciplined in such a way. And it is indeed a pity that I cannot use it as a punishment for your insolent behavior. Actually I have thought about it … often this fantasy had crossed my mind to be precise. But with the knowledge I have now, unfortunately, I can’t”

“Why not?” Legolas inquired.

“Because you simply enjoy it too much. It does not serve its purpose, when you enjoy your punishment, right? And now come, we shouldn’t let our honored guest wait.”

A treacherous smile danced over Thranduil’s lips – they were even by now, as the words alone had been enough to arouse something in Legolas that certainly would not leave his mind for long hours.

 

**~~**

Bard had truly not the slightest idea how Thranduil’s halls would look like from inside, when he rode through the ancient forest towards the Great Gate, following the escort who had been sent to the edges of Greenwood the Great. But given the love for details the Elvenking harbored and his wealth, it must be splendid indeed, Bard mused enjoying the soft breeze that danced through his hair. No matter how often he had tried to imagine what the Elvenking’s realm would look like, he failed, only blurred imaged of the twilight halls of Erebor returned to his mind. Never before had he taken a step into the enchanted forest, remembering the tales which were told to him as a child.

 _‘Do not venture any further than the little pool at the end of the river’_ had been his mother’s words – and he never did. Year after year he had collected the empty barrels from said pool but he never walked beyond the invisible border. Now, when he rode through the ancient forest, a soft breeze caressing his skin, he almost regretted that he had never taken the opportunity to explore the neighboring realm on its own. It was late spring and the ground of the forest was covered with thousands and thousands of tiny flowers – violet, blue and bright yellow ones were among them – each of them eliciting a divine incent. To Bard’s eyes, the expansive forest seemed to stretch as mighty as he always imagined the great sea, filling the land with an endless carpet of flowers. The beauty was breathtaking and for long moments he simply stared in awe. The forest was just as beautiful and mysterious as the King who ruled over this land was.

When the Great Gated opened, the sight that greeted him nearly took his breath away - spiraling stairs lead away in every possible direction and massive, stony bridge-ways towered high above him, making his mind spin as his eyes followed their way. Bard allowed his eyes to wander along the ornamented pillars, admiring the delicate craftsmen ship, over the gushing waterfalls that ran down the stone walls, the numerous flickering torches that illuminated the halls. Truly, he was lost for words upon the beauty those halls were, staring mesmerized until two guards gestured him to follow. And so he did, but the amazement never ceased when he walked further into the dimly lit caverns - those halls were indeed befitting for the elves greatest king, even if he had only seen a glimpse of the splendor they truly had to offer. Many secrets lay possibly hidden behind those delicately ornamented doors, behind those thick walls, lavish dining rooms and the royal family’s private quarters with all amenities Bard could think of.

What startled him though, was the constant mumbling of the elves that followed him as he was led along countless corridors and towering bridges deep into the heart of Thranduil’s halls. He hardly understood their alien tongue, only a few words their King had frequently used whilst he was in Dale, but their voices rang in excitement. Bard almost suspected they were gossiping about him, and various reasons why that could be crossed his mind. Probably he simply had been too loud back then? Aye, indeed he - THEY - had not been all too quiet and the fabrics of the pavilion was no solid brick-wall that swallowed sounds to a certain extent. Soon, a light blush graced his cheeks, recalling their shared night rather vividly. Probably it was indeed about this matter since all fell silent in unison as soon as they were in earshot of the King.

And Bard gasped audible, not being prepared for the sight that greeted him. Thranduil’s throne room was nothing short of intimidating, with arms carved like massive antlers, but the pattern also strangely resembled the branches of the trees of Greenwood the Great. Briefly, Bard let his gaze wander once more, but soon he kept his eyes solely on the Elvenking who sat stoic and regal on his antlered throne, his legs crossed and his piercing eyes resting upon the man.

The Elvenking’s waist length golden hair hung free over his shoulders, glowing golden in the twilight of his halls against the deep emerald of his formal robe, his fingers adorned with several rings matching the silvery crown that decorated his head. And beside him on his right side stood his only son, being not less beautiful than his father truly was. Bard had always had a little fascination for the immortal race of elves, their otherworldly beauty and almost feminine features, but Mirkwood’s royal family was truly outstanding, even among the elves.

He had never seen Legolas in anything else than his armor before, and the sight the young Prince presented in his silvery robe was indeed breathtaking. The circlet he wore was nearly identical to his King’s, slightly smaller and less intricate, yet the patterns were identical. It almost seemed as if they once were made to represent the King and Queen of the Woodland Realm, yet that Thranduil’s Queen had long perished. They looked so incredible alike – Bard had never realized it before. Truth to be told, something about Mirkwood’s royal family startled him, almost intrigued him - but he couldn’t exactly tell what it was, dismissing his thoughts as a figment of his overwhelmed mind.

“Welcome to the Woodland Realm, Welcome to my halls, Bard, King of Dale” Thranduil announced, breaking the silence that hung between them for a moment. His voice was echoing through the massive throne room, reflected by the surrounding walls.

“Thank you for the kind invitation and the offered hospitality, King Thranduil” Bard replied - it was odd to use such formalities with the one who had fucked him into oblivion some weeks ago. Yet they seemed necessary, at least as long as others were present. It nearly was as if the elf sensed his slightly uncomfortable feeling as Thranduil dismissed the remaining guards immediately with a gesture alone. Not a second later, they disappeared soundlessly. Slowly he stepped down the stairs that lead to his antlered throne, coming to stand right before the man. His son, however, didn’t follow his movements but sat himself casually down in the throne.

“Good to see you again, Bard” Thranduil said with an honest smile on his lips, all authority was now gone from his voice. Even if it was not the elvish way to greet friends, Bard had learnt that a while ago, Thranduil opened his arms to catch his friend, lover, and ally in a welcoming embrace. If glances could kill, Bard would be certainly dead by now. Not only that Legolas himself has developed a decent crush on the mortal man, but worse: never before had he seen his father act in such a – at least in his eyes – totally inappropriate manner, seen him so close with the one he knew he had bedded.

Silently, he cursed his own jealousy – he had no right at all to feel as he did, taking his own liberties at times, yet he couldn’t dismiss the feeling as if nothing had happened between them. It was his father’s voice that tore him out of his musing. “Legolas, would you mind to bid your welcome to my, **_OUR_** honored guest?” the words were never spoken as a request, but as a demand.

“Of course, father. My apologies.” the younger elf said in the most charming voice he could manage, stepping down the stairs and bowing before the mortal king that now was released from Thranduil’s arms – the naughty smirk that graced his lips went unseen by both. “Welcome to my father’s halls, I hope you will find your stay most pleasant” in silence he added ‘ _Oh you will, be assured – and if I personally have to take care of it’_

“Thank you, Prince Legolas. I am certain that everything will be to my liking.” Bard replied with a warm smile, meeting the elf’s sparkling eyes who had a hard time to hold back a snicker. The silent scolding from his father followed immediately; for Thranduil it was impossible to oversee the subtle change in his son’s eyes and a word of warning was uttered through their mental bond.

“Do you desire, wish for anything, Bard?” Thranduil asked, drawing his attention towards the mortal King again, taking both of his hands into his own.

“Nothing I could think of, right now.” he replied, puzzlement visibly spread across his face. There were a million things that crossed his mind, but not a single appropriate one among them. The Elvenking’s warm and silken fingers in his own hands didn’t help to form a coherent though, distracting his attention only further. But apparently this was exactly what Thranduil wanted, bending down and bridging the distance until their lips brushed against each other.

“Maybe something comes to your mind.“ The elf mumbled between chaste, yet loving kisses. “After this?” he added in a voice that was nothing more than a gentle whisper, before he kissed him properly.

Bard was taken aback, he had not expected THIS to occur, not so soon and especially not in front of Thranduil’s son, but the elf did not seem to be bothered at the slightest by Legolas’ presence as he began to explore the man’s mouth demandingly. Legolas fumed, there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do against his father’s actions. And Thranduil knew it, Legolas thought bitterly; it was the very reason why Thranduil was doing it, serving the simple purpose to annoy him. And if the sight they presented wasn’t enough already, his eyes never left Legolas’ face as he kissed Bard in the same way he kissed his son - a fact that only fueled the younger elf’s further.

“Legolas, if you would be so kind and take care of your duties as Captain of the Guard? I have some matters to discuss with the King of Dale.” It was the friendly way to say “get thee gone”, yet it meant the very same and Bard eyes snapped open immediately upon the King’s icy words. ”I will see you at dinner, same place as usual – don’t be late.” Their relationship remained an unsolved mystery to him, their behavior towards each other changed within seconds from affectionately whispered words to icy commands.

Legolas nodded, acknowledging his Sire’s words. “Of course, father. You will excuse me, Bard of Dale.” he managed to choke out, fighting to keep his voice indifferent.

It took all his self-restrain not to make a scene out of this; not often before had he been dismissed in such a way. _‘Oh you will pay for this, I swear’_ he mumbled to himself as he rushed down the stairways out of sight and earshot, yet he did not leave his father’s throne hall, hiding behind one of the numerous ornamented stone pillars, being unable to avert his eyes. His gaze was curiously directed upwards where Bard and his father still stood, exchanging words he could not understand.

 

**~~**

“Long has it been, that the last King of Dale has visited my Realm” Thranduil began, his voice all of a sudden carrying a dark tone that the man had never heard before. “And I assume knowledge has been lost in all the years”

“Forgive me, but I fear I do not understand?” Bard replied, utterly puzzled by the Elvenking’s words, intimidated by the piercing stare of those blue eyes.

“You have come to pay your respect, your homage to me – and this involves more than words could ever tell” Thranduil said indifferently as he walked up the stairs to his his throne again, gesturing the startled man to follow him. It was nothing than a blatant lie, no such thing did ever exist and even if it would have existed he would have never utilized it, but with Bard things were a little different. And truth to be told, the distinct state of arousal had never left his mind, thanks to his petulant son.

Although he had told Legolas to take his leave, Thranduil knew that he most likely lingered somewhere in the shades, watching their every movements. Should he – the elf thought whilst he sat down in his throne with a graceful movement, waiting for Bard to stand before him. Everything that would follow was all for his son to see, it was his punishment for the impertinent behavior yesterday, and possibly also for the unforgivable some months ago.

“Kneel” The Elvenking demanded.

Bard swallowed hard and his eyes widened in shock. Never had he expected this to occur. “Excuse me, but …?” he muttered, furrowing his brows in the same way Thranduil always did. For long moments a heavy silence hung between them and Bard did not move an inch, possibly not even thinking about to obey his words.

In fact, that was not what Thranduil had expected, and Bard’s impertinent reaction made him smile – not expected it had been, but extremely to his liking nonetheless. The laughter that followed broke the silence. “Because I demand it” he said, rising again from his throne and leaning in until his lips were only inches away from the man’s ear. “Forgive me, those words I have spoken previously had not been accurate. No such thing did ever exist” he breathed seductively with his jewel-adorned fingers trailing along Bard’s throat. “The truth is: I simply desire to feel the King of Dale’s eager mouth around my cock again, having such a natural talent with his lips and tongue - and don’t tell me you have done it in such a stunning scenery before”

Now it was Bard who laughed whole-heartedly. “Nay, indeed I never have. And with the truth now revealed I will gladly pay my respect to Mirkwood’s cherished King” – flattery could go both ways and Bard was no stranger to it. Indeed he was grateful for Thranduil’s honest words as this was so much more to his liking. Often had he mused late at night, recalling their fleeting encounter, wondering what their shared night had exactly meant - it could be all or nothing, the Elvenking had never been specific about it, nor had he been. When he had received the invitation to visit the Woodland Realm he had been indeed a little nervous, not knowing what exactly would await him there, how matters were between them - but apparently some things sort themselves out. With a broad smirk, he almost shoved the elf back into his throne, mumbling something that Thranduil couldn’t understand.

Tantalizingly slow, he placed his hands on each thigh, falling onto his knees before Mirkwood’s proud King, whose lips were curled into a broad smile.

“And what favor does the Elvenking offer in return?” Bard asked and became flustered by his own words. The elf’s reaction was instant - Thranduil’s mouth dropped open in utter astonishment. This was certainly not what he had expected, his invitation and hospitality should be indeed enough. Yet he decided to play along, feeling Bard’s fingertips against the bulge in his leggings.

“Depends on your performance, King of Dale”

“You would not have asked for it, if it wouldn’t have been to your satisfaction the last time King of the Elves.” a smug smirk could be seen on Bard’s handsome face, and Thranduil could not even think of something in his defense. Aye, the man was truly handsome, but it was not the only thing which had intrigued him ever since their first meeting. It was his intelligence, the care for his little family and not last the smugness that had made him fallen for the dragonslayer.

“Point taken.” Thranduil laughed, leaning back further into his throne.

“So?” The man asked and stilled the movements of his fingers momentary, awaiting the response from the elf.

“What about giving you a night to remember?” He paused to give Bard time to think about his words, lowering his voice distinctly as he continued. “I have heard these halls offer some great amenities…“

 _‘And I bet you count yourself among them, you vain bastard, don’t you?’_ The words nearly slipped over his lips aloud; it was in the last moment that Bard bit his tongue. “Agreed upon, but be assured I will hold you to your word, King of the Elves.” Bard retorted with a smile when he finally was done with unlacing the restricting garment, pushing it further down to reveal the elf’s already hardened cock.

Painfully slowly, he began to lick from the head all the way down to the base, earning a distinct groan from the elf who watched him expectantly, his shining eyes now a distinctly darker shade of blue than they usually were. Bard’s own erection strained his pants, the sight Thranduil presented in his throne was breathtaking. Indeed it was the entirety of the situation which only added to the man’s excitement, it was utterly wicked, the chances somebody might see them were high. Yet Thranduil did not seem to care at the slightest, reaching for Bard’s head to steady himself, weaving his jeweled fingers into the soft, dark hair. Gently, he repeatedly traced the head with the tip of his tongue, and each lick sent tremors through the elf’s body, who braced himself against the back of his throne. The Elvenking wanted to say something but his words came to abrupt stop as the head of his cock was taken into the warm, wet heat of the man, and all that tumbled from his lips was an audible gasp.

Soon after, Bard’s head moved smoothly up and down, framed by the elf’s slender fingers and palms, his lips and tongue working eagerly, almost frantically along the pulsating cock that was deeply buried in his mouth. With every swallow that he took the grip on the back of his head increased, and distinct moans already fell from Thranduil’s parted lips. Those sounds in combination with the flushed face of Mirkwood’s King only fueled his own desire further and he allowed his hand to slip down to cradle his balls in feathery touches. Instantly, his actions were rewarded by a sharp cry and a bucking of the elf’s hips, pushing his cock further down into the awaiting mouth.

Bard wanted everything – seeing the Elvenking squirm beneath his lips and fingers, writhing and bucking helplessly against him, coming undone in his own throne until only incoherent words fell from his lips – it was sheer madness what they did, but Bard greatly enjoyed himself. And the sight Mirkwood’s King presented was alluring beyond measure. Many things had he imagined whilst he rode along the ancient road but finishing the proud ruler off in such a way was certainly not among them. Yet there they were, Thranduil was panting heavily, his ivory skin graced by a decent blush that made him truly irresistible and even more desirable, Bard mused whilst he peeked almost coyly upwards. However, he never stilled his movements and soon they were met with the elf thrusting into his mouth, meeting his very rhythm.

 _‘Gods’_ Bard though as he tried to relax his mouth, suppressing the gagging reflex as the elf’s cock repeatedly hit the back of his throat. Involuntarily, he choked but the firm grip made it impossible to move his head away and not a second later, the elf came, spilling down deep in his throat, moaning and gasping helplessly as he came undone.

 

 

Legolas glared at his King and father, raging in silence in the dim light of the great hall. From the position where he stood, Thranduil’s son was able to see every single one of their alluring movements. However, it was not WHAT they did that made him fume, it was the dreamy look on his father’s face that nearly killed him, igniting a jealously he had never knew that even existed within him.

But as time passed, the furious jealousy mingled with the distinct emotion of arousal; it was as if he looked right into his own face, when he saw his father come undone under Bard’s ministrations. He cursed and raged in silence but it did not change anything; with every look in that pretty face he grew even more hard, his body treacherously betraying his mind.

Legolas shook his head in wonder, finally taking his leave from the halls. Quietly, but not less upset, Legolas re-entered his father’s quarters, pouring himself a glass of wine before he sat down into one of the massive armchairs that stood around the fireplace, his legs sprawled across the wooden table. It was the very position that Mirkwood’s King hated most – and again Legolas did it entirely on purpose, awaiting his father’s return.

 

“And, are we pleased and satisfied with my performance, your majesty?” Bard panted, soft laughter accompanying his words.

“I fear you have yourself indeed earned the night to remember that I have promised.” The Elvenking laughed, still struggling to catch his breath in the sweet post-orgasm state. “You were amazing!” It was only the ghost of a touch to his collar-bone that followed the words but it was enough to make Bard tremble.

“I aim to please” Bard commented with a soft chuckle, not entirely believing his own words.

“Oh do you? I have heard different tales, but those rumors matter not.” Thranduil commented with a warm smile on his lips. “Now come, get on your feet and kiss me. Please?”

Bard obliged and rose to his feet instantly, but he didn’t have time to reply for elf’s lips were upon his own, silencing him in the sweetest way possible for long moments.

 

**~~**

 


	3. Chapter 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil can't get his hands off Bard, Bard wonders why the guards are gossiping behind his back and Legolas is a nasty little brat.

**Chapter 03**

**~~**

They remained in Thranduil’s throne room for a long time; apparently the elf did not bother at all that the very location was everything but private and their position rather compromising. Just seconds after the lazy kiss, Bard found himself sitting in Thranduil’s lap with the elf’s fingers caressing his burning cheeks in feathery touches, kissing him every now and then gently. Much had he expected from Mirkwood’s King – but such almost lovingly affections were not among them. Partly, Bard blamed the elf’s post-orgasm haze for his actions.

“Such a pity we can’t stay like this forever.” Thranduil mumbled dreamingly against his lips between kisses, entirely unwilling to rise from his antlered throne.

“Well – I doubt that your throne will disappear overnight, would it? “Bard commented matter-of-factly which earned him a hearty and honest laugh of the elf.

“Nay, I doubt it. But tell me, have you enjoyed yourself so much?”

“Possibly” Bard laughed. The elf was right, he indeed had. “But I’ve always wondered if arrogance comes automatically whilst sitting in an actual throne.”

“Are you calling me arrogant?” Thranduil asked, furrowing his brow.

“Among other things – I fear I do.” Bard replied coyly, struggling hard to bite back a chuckle when he recalled what words had recently crossed his mind.

“Tell me!” the elf inquired impatiently, nudging Bard into the side. The curiosity in Thranduil’s voice was audible in every word.

“Well let’s see” Bard began, pretending that he was thinking hard as his fingers began to travel over the Elvenking’s lips. “I think I’ve called you a vain bastard recently, at least in my head. Several times the phrase ‘manipulative shit’ crossed my mind.” he paused again, letting his fingers wander over Thranduil’s cheek-bone. “Well what else do we have?”

“I think I have heard enough.” Thranduil interrupted him, still chuckling and looking at him with curiosity. “Vain bastard.. a good one indeed. You don’t mind if I take those as a compliment, do you? But now get off me, I actually have some matters to attend which can hardly wait any longer.”

“If I must, I will - even if it is not to my liking.” Bard replied, detangling his fingers out of the elf’s silken hair, hopping of his lap so that he came to stand right before the Elvenking whose cheeks were still flushed. “May I offer you my assistance, your majesty? You seem exhausted.” And with those words he offered his hand to Mirkwood’s startled King.

“Of course you may.” Thranduil laughed, taking the offered hand and rose to his feet. Apart from Legolas, almost nobody dared to speak with him in such an almost disobedient manner and he found Bard’s behavior extremely to his liking. It was a most pleasant diversion to all the yea-sayers among his court and he could not suppress the urge to kiss his dragonslayer again.

 

**~~**

Actually, Bard had thought that Thranduil would let go of his hand as soon as they – but he was completely mistaken in this assumption. In fact, it was quite the contrary: absently, the elf’s arm sneaked around his waist, pulling him closer towards him as they walked along those endless corridors that led to the guest quarters which would be his ‘home’ for the next few days. Several guards and other elves passed by them, and to Bard’s astonishment not a single distant mumbling among them could be heard – it was maddening and involuntarily his thoughts on that matter returned.

“Thranduil? May I ask you something?” Bard said, coming to an abrupt halt when nobody could be seen around them.

“What ails you?” The elf replied, raising a curious eyebrow.

“What is it with your guards .. they were constantly speaking whilst I walked have I been SO loud, that they have heard us?” Bard finally managed to choke out with a certain embarrassment.

“Possibly they have indeed, but I think it is about something entirely different – you should ask my son about this as I have never heard those rumors myself. As you might have noticed they stop gossiping as soon as I can hear them.” The Elvenking laughed, now his curiosity was indeed sparked what this was all about. Their ancient race was counted among the wisest beings on Arda, yet apparently almost every single inhabitant within his Realm believed that foolish non-sense. “And probably they do it for a reason.” He added quietly.

“Aye.” Bard nodded. The gossiping among the elves had indeed stopped the moment when their King was within ear-shot. “I will do ask him when I meet him next.”

“That will be soon as he will join our dinner – only if you do not mind his presence, of course.”

“How could I?” Bard inquired suspiciously. Until now, he had experienced the Prince as extraordinary pleasant company.

“Believe me, if you would know him better, your answer would be most likely a **_little_** bit different.” Thranduil laughed, and Bard’s eyes widened involuntarily. Mirkwood’s royal family was a strange mystery to him, they seemed so very close at times, but a second later they pretended as if they would truly hate each other. “Let me tell you something, King of Dale. He might look as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but don’t be fooled by his innocent appearance. That’s only the mask he decides to wear – he can be insolent, utterly annoying and wicked beyond measure.”

“Like father, like son I would say.” Bard retorted with a broad smirk. Now it was himself who had to laugh whole-heartedly, it was as if Thranduil had described himself.

“Watch your tongue.” The elf hissed, his voice deadly calm and icy all of a sudden. Even if Bard noticed the change in Thranduil’s tone, he did not care at the slightest, enjoying their little game too much.

“And what if I don’t?” Bard commented coyly with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Will you lock me away in your dungeons?”

“Possibly.” Thranduil stated indifferently, leaning in until his lips touched the man’s ear, lowering his voice distinctly. “But not in the ordinary ones, those are do not serve the purpose.”

Bard swallowed hard. He had only a very vague idea what the elf’s words could imply, he didn’t even know if such a thing ever existed in those halls, but a strange, yet alluring mixture of fear and curiosity mingled in his mind. It was impossible to dismiss the thoughts and for moments, he was truly lost for words.

Soon, they stood in front of a massive ornamented wooden door which led to the guest quarters that would be Bard’s ‘home’ for the time he would spend in the Woodland Realm. “As I have said before; if you need, desire anything, never hesitate to ask. Make yourself comfortable, feel as if you are at home and relax a little - you know what for you will need your strength. I will send one of my guards to escort you to enjoy dinner with us - until then, Farewell, King of Dale.”

 

**~~**

With amazement, Bard explored his assigned guest quarters, loosing himself in the splendor and beauty of the little details, touching the sheets and cushions on the spacious bed that were made of the finest silk he had ever seen and felt. Those alone must have cost a fortune, and with a heavy sigh he let himself fall down onto them, feeling the cool fabric against his hands. Involuntarily and rather quickly, his mind began to drift off into a rather distinct direction when he recalled how he had clutched onto Thranduil’s silken sheets in the throes of passion in his pavilion in the ruins of Dale. With a smile on his lips he sunk into an alluring state between sleep and awake until a heavy knock against the wooden door tore him out of his reverie.

**~~**

When Thranduil returned to his own quarters, his mind was still occupied with the foolish rumors that circulated among his guards, wondering when such an insanity had last reigned within his realm. He could only shake his head in disbelief, almost pitying the poor mortal man who received unwantedly so much attention from the alien folk – and soon he would receive attention of an entirely different sort, Thranduil chuckled to himself.

As soon as the heavy wooden door that lead to his chambers sprang open, his extraordinary good mood was extinguished within seconds by the sight that greeted him. Legolas was lounging casually in one of the massive arm-chairs, his boot-covered feet lying across the wooden table accompanied by two empty bottles of his best wine. A thousand times they had discussed exactly this matter, and a thousand times Legolas had decided to pay no attention to his father’s words – within seconds a fierce anger rose in Thranduil and wouldn’t his manners forbid it, he would certainly have slapped the younger elf right across his face.

“Get your feet off the table!” he screamed and shoved his son’s legs off the table. “And for Valar’s sake this wine was meant for tonight’s dinner!”

“Fuck you!” Legolas retorted, not even bothered enough by his father’s presence to look up from whatever he was doing.

“Excuse you?” Thranduil warned, his voice ice-cold and filled with anger. “What’s the problem with you, little one?”

Legolas hated it if he was addressed as ‘little one’ – the very reason why Thranduil used exactly this nickname. A look in his son’s face was enough to know that Legolas was upset beyond measure – and it was simply irresistible for him to fuel this anger even further.

“Don’t you dare to speak with me like this after what you’ve done!” Legolas said, grudge mingled with utter disappointment audible in his voice. “You .. You” he continued, but the words got stuck in his throat as he finally looked up. With a shudder, he saw the still slightly flushed cheeks and involuntarily met his father’s gaze; without even noticing it, his hands clenched into fists until his knuckles turned white.

“Oh I see, my little one has been spying indeed” Thranduil breathed seductively with a sly smirk dancing across his lips.

Legolas said nothing, just glared furiously into his father’s direction.

"Well, Legolas. I told you to leave, but apparently you have decied to defy my orders. Again. I can't be blamed for your disobedience."

The furious glare only intensified with every word Thranduil was saying - he was completely right. He HAD told him to leave, yet he did not, hiding in the shadows like a thief.

With every moment that passed, the smug smirk on Thranduil’s lips only broadened. “Are you throwing a tantrum because you are jealous?” he inquired mockingly as he bent down his head he was on the same level as Legolas’ eyes. “Because you couldn’t take your leave when I told you so? And now you pretend it is **_MY_** fault?” he added with a hearty laugh. “Oh my little one, you are beyond sweet”

“I AM NOT JEALOUS” Legolas retorted in a petulant tone.

“Of course you are, yet you are in absolutely no position to be, my little leaf.” Thranduil with the sweetest smile he could manage. Who I am courting is hardly any of your concern and remember our little conversation last night, you have promised me that you would behave yourself at all costs. Yet there you are - acting like an insolent, petulant brat – maybe I should reconsider my words in regard to your indecent proposal.”

In a single movement Legolas was on his feet, gripping his father firmly at the front of his robe. “Don’t you dare!” he warned icily.

“I do as I please.” Thranduil commented nonchalantly, pretending not to be bothered at the slightest by his son’s hands. “Anyways, have the courtesy and tell me, my dear, if you have enjoyed the show I’ve been giving you?”

“NO” Legolas yelled.

“You are a bad liar, you’ve always been” he said, his words nothing more than a whisper, standing in high contrast to Legolas’ furious yells.

“NO”

It took all self-restrain he could muster not to burst out into a fit of giggles; Legolas’ impertinent behavior was extraordinary charming. “Of course you are, little one. Don’t take me for a fool.” he stated. Simultaneously, one of Thranduil’s hands sneaked between them, brushing against Legolas’ thighs in a feathery touch. “Say – have you touched yourself, imagining it was you who pleasured me?”

Silence – and with every second that passed Thranduil’s fingers travelled distinctly upwards until they brushed against the treacherous bulge underneath the delicate fabric.

“So you have” Thranduil couldn’t suppress a chuckle any longer, his son was beyond obvious. “And you are still furious? How’s that, wasn’t it any good? Have you forgotten how to do it yourself since I am constantly available?”

“Fuck you” Legolas spat, trying to remove his father’s hand between his legs with his thigh, but failed utterly.

“Believe me, I would if it was possible”

“I hate you!” Legolas cursed under his breath.

“No, you don’t and I think by now we have had enough swear words for today, haven’t we?”

“For fuck’s sake - Shut up now.”

“Don’t tempt me!” Thranduil warned, and before Legolas could mutter another rant, he found himself flipped around and bent over the massive wooden table where only moments ago his feet have rested. “Behave yourself, or I will dine with our guest alone and all your efforts last night had been in vain.”

“You sneaky bastard.” Legolas mumbled barely audible, when he felt the grip on him loosened instantly. This was one of his favorite positions, it was enough to become aroused all over again, but apparently his father wanted to have none of it right now. Silently he added several curses to the one that had slipped his lips.

“Yes, yes, arrogant, selfish, sneaky bastard – I know this already, there is no need to tell me this again and again and again! And now you will excuse me, in contrast to your lazy self I have actually some work to do, ruling this kingdom amongst them.”

And with that he stepped away, leaving the room into the direction of his private study to catch up with the work he originally had intended to be finished long ago. Several long-postponed correspondences and the renewal of the council schedule awaited him, and in silence he cursed as he began with the first letter. To his surprise, the words seemed to come freely this afternoon and soon he had established a routine and forgotten about everything what had happened previously this day. Until Legolas’ distracting voice filled the room.

“Ada?” he asked quietly, leaning against the door frame.

“What is it?” Thranduil mumbled, not looking up from the letter he was writing.

Legolas hated himself for being so weak, for being so utterly predictable, but he couldn’t do anything against it – it drove him sheer mad when his father seemed to be cross with him.

“Can I join you?” the younger elf whispered insecurely, coming to stand behind his father.

“You already have – so what’s the point in asking me?” he said indifferently, looking over his shoulder to meet his son’s gaze.

“Well .. I thought …” the younger elf offered, resting his chin on his father’s shoulder and sneaking his arms around his waist.

“Thought of how to distract me best?” Thranduil laughed, sensing the first sparks of wickedness in his son’s mind.

“Sort of, yes.” Legolas confessed, weaving his fingers into the silken strands.

“Oh well, my little one. You know I hardly can resist you” he said with an exaggerated sigh, placing the quill and the letter aside. “But not here – I am done with it for today. The armchairs in the main room are so much more comfortable.”

Not soon after, they were sitting in one of those chairs, Legolas in his father’s lap with his legs and bare feet hanging over the armrest, his head leaning against Thranduil’s chest. Absently he was playing with a strand of the golden hair.

“I love you.” Legolas was mumbling dreamily in between feathery kissed against his father’s throat.

“So do I – even if you are such a nasty brat at times.” he replied, pulling him even closer into the embrace.

“Thank you for the compliment – but it is all your fault that I am as I am.” The younger elf hissed in played annoyance before he began to nibble on his father’s ear-lobe, knowing all too well what effect this caress had on the other.

“Oh yes, of course. It’s always my fault, no matter what it is – still: I love you, cherish you more than anything. Know that.”

“I do”

Those were the last words which were spoken between them, enjoying the intimidate moment, cherishing the comfortable silence and the sweet kisses until a knock at the heavy door announced their guest’s arrival.

“Get off me, Legolas.” Thranduil demanded, his voice distinctly affected by what Legolas had been doing only seconds ago.

And a little to his own surprise, his son obliged without throwing another tantrum, awaiting his father’s command to let their guest enter his private quarters.


	4. Chapter 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas can't keep his feet still under the dinner table and offers the indecent proposal to an entirely startled Dragonslayer....

**Chapter 04**

**~~**

Bard had no idea where exactly the guard led him – the corridors in Thranduil’s halls seemed like a sheer endless labyrinth of intricate pillars, secret passage-ways and staircases, but the worst fact was that everything looked absolutely identical! His eyes involuntarily wandered over the ornamented torch-holders, along the richly decorated stone-walls and he questioned himself in silence if he had come this way before, when he had been accompanied by Mirkwood’s King this afternoon. He couldn’t tell for certain, it seemed as if they were walking in circles, being lost in the spacious caverns.

However, there was one thing Bard knew – that he would NEVER find the way back to his quarters on his own, a fact that troubled him greatly. Relying, depending on another had always been among his greatest dislikes. The longer he followed the silent elf along the dimly lit corridors, the more did Bard wonder where exactly he was led - it seemed as if the destination was located far away from the heart of the Kingdom, secluded from the rest at the other end of the great cavern.

Briefly, he pondered his thoughts if he should question the mute elf, but dismissed the thought immediately, not even knowing if the other understood the common tongue.

“Finally.” Bard mumbled to himself, his words barely audible as they came to stop before a massive wooden door. “Even those damn doors look the same” he cursed under his breath, realizing that the patterns were exactly identical compared to the doors that led to his guest quarters. Three distinct knocks announced his presence, and a few elvish words which he couldn’t understand later the door was finally opened by the elf who accompanied him.

Bard gasped audibly as he was led into the spacious chambers – in fact he had no idea what the dinner would be like, Thranduil had never been precise on this matter. But somehow he had expected a dinner in one of the great dining halls with half of Thranduil’s court present – at least some of his advisors - something closer to a feast than a casual dinner, given the Elvenking’s preferences for wine, food and company - yet it appeared as if he had been completely mistaken in his assumption. This was certainly no great dining hall, but Thranduil’s private rooms and instead of countless elves only Mirkwood’s royal family was present.

 

**~~**

“Good evening, King of Dale!” to Bard’s surprise it was the King’s son who welcomed him, standing beside his father who remained seated in the massive chair, dismissing the elf who had let him inside.

“Good evening to you, Legolas. Good evening, Thranduil. Thank you for the invitation.” Bard replied, still slightly taken aback and a little nervous by the rather intimated setting of their meeting. Slowly, he stepped further into the richly decorated room that was illuminated only by the burning fire and several torches, coming to stand next to Legolas.

When the door fell into the lock, Thranduil finally rose from his seat, offering the man a dazzling smile. “Welcome meleth-nîn. I hope everything had been to your liking so far and you had some time to relax.” He said softly, before he took both of Bard’s hands into his own, leaning in as if he wanted to kiss him. “Thank you for keeping us company this evening.” he added, before he indeed placed an affectionate kiss onto Bard’s soft lips.

Unseen by both, Legolas rolled his eyes and bit his tongue, trying his best not to throw another tantrum right in front of them. He had promised his father faithfully and several times to behave this evening under all circumstances – if he indeed had, he would be rewarded with half an hour right after their dinner.

With the dragonslayer he so much desired.

Alone.

If he fucked up, that Thranduil had made more than clear, none of it would ever happen and Mirkwood’s King would spend the night alone with the precious mortal man until both were sore and utterly exhausted.

At first, Legolas had swallowed hard upon the conditions, contemplating in silence - but the Prince would not be Thranduil’s son and heir if not immediately a naughty idea had crossed his mind – and therefore he had gladly accepted every single one of his father’s conditions.

 

**~~**

“I have to admit that I am rather hungry already – it seems as today’s events have exhausted me already. Shall we?” Thranduil asked right after he had stopped to kiss the man. Of course it was a blatant lie – he wasn’t hungry at all, at least not for common food. The sole reason for this comment was to tease – to annoy – his son further as if the kiss hadn’t been enough and Legolas’ reaction was as expected. This time, the petulant roll of his eyes did not go unnoticed and was rewarded with the sweetest and most innocent smile his father could muster.

 _‘I hate you!’_ Legolas thought again, but replied with the same sweet voice, accompanied by a coy smile as his gaze wandered from his father to Bard. “Of course father, given our honored guest agrees upon?” It was the warning twinkle in those sapphire eyes that told the truth, but Bard was entirely unable to read the subtle, non-vocal language that existed between father and son.

“Of course I do agree. I am literally starving.” Bard replied, grateful that he did not have to wait another hour until he could finally fill his empty stomach.

 _‘Oh yes how could I have forgotten? Those mortals are always hungry!_ Legolas mused to himself, but still received a silent scolding by his father’s eyes. Over the years, Thranduil had mastered to read Legolas’ very thoughts, and the Prince hated nothing more than this annoying fact.

“Please.” Thranduil offered with an honest smile and a gesture of his arm for Bard to join him as he began to walk towards their private dining room, where the food and wine already awaited them. “Take your seat and feel as if you are at home” he added, seating himself down at the end of the table.

The abundance of the finest foods imaginable almost took his breath away. There were vegetables he had never seen before, pastries, several different sorts of bread, fresh fruit on silvery plates and so many other things he had not even heard of before, three different bottles of wine and water, everything illuminated by the flickering candle-light that painted the room in golden shades. For long moments, Bard simply stared, intoxicated by the divine smell of the delicacies.

“Thank you.” He finally managed to choke out, searching for the Elvenking’s eyes who apparently had watched him the entire time with a genuine smile. Involuntarily, a decent blush began to grace his cheeks; his behavior was most likely entirely inappropriate for royalty among he himself also counted by now, but he still often forgot about this little detail.

“You are more than welcome” Thranduil said softly, not holding any grudge against his mortal guest. “But please take your seat.”

And so Bard did, sitting himself down on the Elvenking’s left side, face-to-face with Legolas who had already begun to fill their goblets with his father’s best wine.

 

**~~**

Bard was truly overwhelmed by the delicacy of the food, trying bits of pieces of almost everything, enjoying the sweet, yet potent wine and holding conversation with both Thranduil and his son alike. Had he been hesitant at first in regard to the intimate setting of their dinner, now this fact was greatly to his liking as it made it possible to avoid restricting titles and lurking sandtraps. (Bard had a natural talent to drop the clanger). Whereas Thranduil and clearly also Legolas were well-trained and used to such formal occasions – Bard certainly was not, and it was impossible hard for him to reconcile with the mere idea, having a natural dislike for soft-soaping and political finesse. He had always been a man of clear words who loved the dialogue, even if it meant that he was provoking at times.

This, however, was entirely different from everything he had imagined – both Thranduil and Legolas acted entirely carefree around him. They chatted with him nonchalantly about all and nothing, questioning him about the progress of rebuilding Dale and his family, and not seldom a hearty laugh danced through the candle-lit room, definitely fueled by the potent wine that flowed freely this evening. That the progress on dining was actual rather slow that evening could definitely be blamed on the pleasant conversations they held and none of them seemed to care at the slightest.

Bard was deeply lost in a verbal dual with Mirkwood’s King when Legolas’ foot was for _some_ reason rubbing against his ankle for the blink of an eye. At first Bard dismissed the motion as an accidental coincidence, but soon, he found out to be entirely mistaken. This was absolutely no coincidence at all, the younger elf did it on purpose - repeatedly! At least five times in a row. From the beginning he had wondered why on earth Legolas was not wearing any shoes, but he had refrained from questioning the younger elf, dismissing it as a weird elvish habit. Now, as Legolas’ toes distinctly crawled upwards along his shinbone, the true reason of the elf’s bare feet seemed revealed.

 _‘What the fuck?’_ Bard thought, heavily suppressing the urge to smash his full glass right into the younger elf’s beautiful and innocently looking face.

With a broad smile, Legolas brought the freshly refilled goblet to his lips again, pretending to take a long sip, sinking tantalizingly slow a little lower in his chair until his slender legs could reach whatever he desired. “The wine is truly magnificent, father.” Legolas commented nonchalantly, indulging his father in a conversation, as he finally lifted his foot into Bard’s lap, letting his toes slide along Bard’s muscular thigh, looking at him completely innocent.

Bard nearly dropped his cutlery when Legolas’ sole pressed into his crotch for the blink of an eye before the elf removed his foot and began to massage the other thigh firmly with his toes. A large sip from his goblet was all Bard managed to muster, hoping that Thranduil’s son would stop immediately what he was doing. Several rather furious glances to warn him, to ask him to stop what he was doing across the table apparently seemed to be of no interest to the younger elf who only withdrew his foot momentarily, chatting with Bard and his father alike as if nothing beneath the table ever happened.

Each time when Bard placed the cutlery aside, the elf withdrew his foot instantly, giving Bard no possibility to slap his leg away. This was absolute madness, and there was absolutely nothing Bard could do against it!

As soon as he resumed to eat, trying to indulge Thranduil into another conversation, Legolas’ ministration resumed, making it sheer impossible to form a coherent sentence anymore and soon Mirkwood’s King certainly would find out about this wicked behavior of his son that involved his guest and lover. If he wanted it or not, Bard had to admit that the younger elf had an incredible talent with his toes; it was hard to hinder his thoughts from drifting off into a distinct direction as Legolas’ toes were rubbing his arousal mercilessly.

“You’re enjoying this ……… stay, I hope?” Legolas inquired in an indifferent tone but with a dazzling and knowing smile, meeting Bard’s furious gaze across the table.

He hardly could speak the truth in front of his friend, his lover, his ally - could he? _‘Get your feet off me’_ would most likely be the correct and appropriate answer, this was already going on too long. But was it truly correct? Of that Bard was not entirely certain anymore, as the elf exactly knew HOW to touch him with his toes alone, making him grow hard within seconds.

In fact, wouldn’t it have been for the entirety of the situation, Bard might have actually enjoyed himself. Never before had he experienced something alike, not even thought about it in his wildest dreams. Feet had never been part of his desires although he knew that such perversions did exist – but to his own astonishment it was indeed extremely to his liking.

Legolas was a beautiful temptation himself, but he could hardly start something with his lover’s own son?

“Aye, everything is to my liking.” He managed to choke out, struggling not to be betrayed by his quivering voice. Finally, he understood what Legolas’ father had tried to tell him this afternoon. At first, he had not believed him but by now he realized that Thranduil had been completely right in everything he had said some hours ago. There was a wickedness in his son that Bard had never imagined possible. The younger elf looked entirely innocent, holding conversation with him and his father alike as if it was the most natural thing to do whilst he pleasured Bard with his naked toes until the man’s trousers were distinctly too tight at certain places.

“Perfect.” Legolas commented with a genuine smile, continuing his invisible caresses with increased intensity until Bard involuntarily arched his back against the wooden chair, biting his tongue to hinder a treacherous moan to tumble across them.

Bard coughed, claiming that something was caught in his throat – in truth it was Legolas’ foot that made him swallow hard. Gently, Legolas was rubbing circles on Bard’s cock with his big toe, tantalizingly slow at first, carefully making sure not to use too much pressure at once whilst he continued eating in his usual pace, savoring every bite he took.

“What is it, Bard?” Thranduil inquired with a certain curiosity, furrowing his brows.

“Nothing… I just..” Gods, it was unbelievable hard to form a single coherent thought with Legolas’ toes stroking him to complete hardness, running along his length over and over again. He swallowed hard and coughed, hoping that the King would believe his poor lie. “Something got caught in my throat – that was all. Pardon me.”

“Wine usually helps.” Thranduil said in an understanding tone, rising his goblet once more. “To a most pleasant and enjoyable evening!”

A silent sigh of relief left Bard’s lips, forcing a smile onto his lips as his trembling hand lifted his own glass.

“To our honored guest” Legolas commented with a breathtaking smile, changing the directions of his motions beneath the table. Now he was stroking up and down, simultaneously increasing the pace of his ministrations with every word that left his lips.

And if this was not enough already, Legolas began to eat his desert that consisted of nothing else than strawberries, although ‘eating’ was a blatant lie; in fact the elf was playing with the fruit, letting his head fall in his neck, parting his lips ever so slightly until his tongue darted out and licked innocently across the tip of the strawberry. The deeply red fruit had the same color as the younger elf’s lips, rosy and utterly sinful and sinful were probably Legolas’ thoughts, too. Bard couldn’t fight back the blush that crept onto his cheeks, it was shamelessly obvious what the elf pretended to do with the innocent fruit. Wicked had been truly an understatement in regard to Thranduil’s son.

“Enough! Legolas, stop it. Now.” Thranduil warned him, shooting a dismissive glance into his son’s direction.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned again.” He replied innocently, tilting his head to meet his father’s stern gaze. Only then he let the strawberry drop lasciviously drop into his mouth, licking his lips with half-lidded eyes whilst his foot still rubbed along the man’s arousal.

Bard stared, truly mesmerized and completely lost for words – it almost appeared as if Legolas was flirting shamelessly with his own father, just as he had been flirting with himself only seconds ago. Yet, he dismissed the disturbing thought immediately, blaming his spinning and lust-fogged mind for it.

By the time Bard had finished eating, he was painfully hard, only the blink of an eye away from his climax, entirely unable to do anything against it in the position he was. It was as if Legolas could read his very thoughts, his hidden caresses stopped not a second later and the elf shot him an almost apologetic smile across the table, suggesting something to his father that was entirely overheard by Bard who was occupied cursing the younger elf in silence.

“Yes. A perfect idea indeed!” Bard heard Thranduil say through his veiled cognition. “The chairs around the fireplace are so much more comfortable.”

 _‘You brat!’_ Bard could have killed his lover’s son for this, and he desperately wished the ground would open and swallow him. It was beyond embarrassing but there was literally nothing at all he could do against it – only curse Legolas and his naughty actions which he still didn’t completely understood in silence. Briefly, he fidgeted with his garments beneath the table before he followed their motions and rose to his feet, realizing that his entire body seemed to tremble visibly. Bard was eternally grateful for the long tunic he had decided to wear this day – it was the garment alone that saved him from further embarrassment, shielding the obvious bulge in his trousers from prying eyes, even more so when the Elvenking’s arm sneaked around his waist.

“I hope you have enjoyed yourself.” Thranduil murmured as they walked towards the place which Legolas had suggested and Bard almost choked on the elf’s words which earned him a snicker from his son. _‘If you would only know what your insolent child did right in front you, yet unseen by your keen eyes’_ Bard swallowed, his throat dry despite all the wine he had consumed.

“Yes.” Was all he managed to reply, dearly hoping that Thranduil wouldn’t notice the subtle, yet distinct change in his voice.

“Good.” Thranduil gave him another dazzling smile before he left Bard’s side to fetch a different bottle from a nearby table. “Peach liquor. The most divine drink on Arda.”

“It indeed is.” Legolas commented, licking his lips appreciatively. “Almost as divine as you” he added in a naughty whisper the moment he passed by Bard, leaning towards him for a mere second.

“I hate you.” Bard whispered back in the same manner, finally sitting down on the chair Legolas had gestured him to take, indulging him in an innocent conversation no second later.

Bard had to admit that both were entirely right in regard to the peach liquor – it tasted more divine than anything he had ever drunk, its taste lingering for long moments on his tongue. He knew, he should take things slowly, not being used to the elves’ potent brewages, but it was irresistible to decline the offer of a refill. Soon, all three found themselves chatting nonchalantly with each other, and Bard’s mind had finally calmed down, at least as much as the beautiful sight of Mirkwood’s royal family allowed it.

**~~**

“If you will excuse myself for a while. I have forgotten about something important which requires my attention.” Thranduil said, rising to his feet in an exaggerated motion.

Without another word he left the room.

Briefly, Bard was tempted to simply follow Thranduil’s action or to throw a tantrum right now, but he simply couldn’t – it was entirely not his attitude and after all he was only guest in those halls. Yet, something told him that being in the same room with Legolas – alone - could not end well. But there was something else that needed answers and apparently the King’s son was the only one who could give the answer to all the riddles. With a forced smile he dismissed the thought to leave immediately, deciding to ignore the anger that still lingered in his mind for the moment. It was the perfect opportunity to finally ask what burned on his mind for long hours now. For the moment, he decided to

“Legolas, I’ve already asked your father about this, but he said you might know better.” Bard began, taking another sip from his goblet in between. “It was as if your elves were .. well.. sort of gossiping?”

“Oh this.” Legolas almost squeaked. Apparently he had already wondered why Bard had never questioned them about this matter. “Well, an ancient tale exists among my kin. It is older than the moon, older than the sun and transferred from generation to generation, and every elf in Middle-Earth does know the lore.” It was a blatant lie, but it mattered little, Legolas decided – in truth he had no idea who had come up with this non-sense. Possibly it could be blamed on his father’s Dorwinion, just as so many things that happened in the Woodland Realm. “The content is rather simple..” he stated mysteriously.

“So?” Bard inquired, his voice ringing with curiosity and impatience, something that was so very unlike him.

“Well” the elf began, leaning back against his seat and looking right into Bard’s face with a sly smirk. “Bedding an actual dragonslayer is regarded as a natural aphrodisiac among my kin.”

Bard’s facial expression made it hard not to laugh, and Legolas had to bite his tongue several times not to burst out into a fit of giggles.

“Pardon me?!” Bard blurted out, his eyes widened with shock and disbelief. In truth he had assumed many things but this? Nay – he simply couldn’t believe Legolas’ words, doubting their verity.

“You’ve understood me perfectly well, King of Dale. That is it what they are talking about, they are totally fascinated by you and your deeds against Smaug the Golden, the mightiest dragon of our time. I assume you can easily guess in what direction their thoughts usually go with those information…” Bard swallowed hard several times, his eyes still wide as his mind processed the elf’s words carefully.

If he wanted to say something or not, made no difference as not a single coherent thought would form with his spinning mind. Involuntarily, he questioned himself if THIS was the sole reason why the Elvenking took interest in him, bedded him because such a tale existed among the immortal creatures? Hadn’t Thranduil taken an interest in HIM, but with his deeds, his actions? Had Thranduil only pretended he did not know anything about those rumors to hide the true nature of his desires? They have never been specific about their relationship, yet the mere thought did hurt!

It was Legolas’ most seductive voice, all of a sudden so very close, that tore him out of his musings.

“If not, I can easily help as my thoughts are not so unlike their own.” he heard Legolas whisper against his ear. Bard had absolutely no idea when exactly Thranduil’s son had sneaked out of his seat and had walked soundlessly towards him. But now he was standing all of a sudden behind him, placing both of his soft hands on his shoulders, massaging Bard’s neck with his slender fingers.

Many things had Legolas inherited from his father, but patience was certainly not among them and time seemed to run through his hands; half an hour had his father given him to convince the man – and Legolas knew it would not be a second longer. He had to ACT if he wanted to succeed in what he had dreamt of for a while now.

Bard gasped audibly – the touch against his skin was enough to send a shiver down his spine, being still affected by the naughty and entirely inappropriate actions beneath the King’s dinner table. Oh how he hated himself in this moment for the weakness of his mind and body.

“I do not know if your father has told you…” the man finally managed to choke out, but was interrupted not a moment later by the most alluring voice he probably had ever heard.

“There was no need to tell me anything, Dragonslayer.” Legolas breathed against the wet skin of his throat where not a second ago the elf’s lips had lingered. “It had been beyond obvious what you’ve been doing the night after the battle.”

Bard couldn’t believe what the young elf said – he indeed knew about their little thing after the battle, yet he shamelessly tried to seduce him?

“And apparently you have already forgotten about the little welcome kiss?” Legolas continued in a teasing – almost mocking tone. Bard indeed had, he had to admit slightly ashamed to himself. “Such open affection is extraordinary rare for my father.”

Of course it was rare if not entirely unheard of, at least for the last few centuries - and Legolas knew the very reason for it. The King could hardly kiss his own son in front of half the court.

“And yet you shamelessly flirt with me?” Bard inquired in pure astonishment, quivering under the skillful touch of Legolas’ fingers. “Try to seduce me in the moment your father has gone? No, that’s not correct - you have even tried to do so when he was still around!” Disbelief was spread across his face – those damn elves, especially Thranduil’s son, were an incomprehensible mystery to him.

“Of course I do.” Legolas stated matter-of-factly as if it was the most normal thing to do, walking around the chair to face the startled man. In a graceful motion he bent his head until their eyes met. “Please tell me if my memory betrays me – but as far as I remember it was not entirely to your dislike.” he said with the most seductive and charming smile he could muster. Before Bard could say anything in this defense, Legolas had crawled into his lap, coming to sit astride of him. Bard knew he should shove him roughly to the floor, stopping those naughty and inappropriate actions immediately, yet he couldn’t, being froze to the chair.

And as if all this was not enough, Legolas allowed his fingers to dance lightly over the scared skin that was not covered by the man’s tunic.

“Would it be so bad to have us both?” he whispered dreamingly when Bard remained quiet. Rather absently, the played with a dark strand of the man’s hair, shifting his weight until his stomach brushed against Bard’s erection. The broad smirk that graced Legolas’ lips went entirely unnoticed by the man who was now completely at a loss.

“No! Nay, I mean, yes – damn it! Damn you!” Bard cursed, his voice already affected by his distinct state of arousal. “What **you** suggest is entirely inappropriate! I can’t sleep with you the one day and getting fucked by your father the other night, that’s insanity! No, Legolas, I fear I must decline the offer. And now please get off my lap! Your father could return any moment.” Now it were the subtle notes of fear that mingled in his voice – the Elvenking’s wrath could be fierce and unforgiving, that much had Bard learned a while ago and he certainly did not want to ignite said wrath this very night. To be seen like this would be a true nightmare indeed, the position they were in was entirely compromising, but not completely to his own dislike – and of course Legolas did not even think about getting off his lap.

“Such a pity” Legolas was mumbling, letting his fingertips ghost over Bard’s cheeks and lips in the most innocent touch until Bard’s breathing hitched for seconds. “But, I fear you have misunderstood me, King of Dale. When I have said both of us, I did not speak about clandestine meetings in the middle of the night - I have meant indeed **both** of us” The puzzlement on the man’s face told him that Bard still did not understand at the slightest what he was actually speaking about.

“Oh well..” the elf began, but trailed off not a second later, unable to resist the temptation of Bard’s lips anymore. Cautiously, he bridged the remaining distance between them and brushed his own lips against the man’s in a chaste kiss before he continued in what was nothing more than a whisper. Secretly, his free hand had sneaked between their bodies and was now slowly wandering from the treacherous bulge in Bard’s trousers upwards. “You still don’t seem to get my point. Again, to clarify this for you: both of us does mean at once. Will you re-think your answer than?” he asked with a warm smile as if his proposal was the most natural thing to offer.

Bard simply stared with wide-eyes, his mouth gasped ajar, meeting Legolas’ sparkling eyes the moment before the elf kissed his lower lip again, this time lingering a moment longer than before.

“Do not play your little games with me, Legolas.” Bard snapped, finally withdrawing his head from Legolas’ lips. “I doubt your father even knows about what you are doing right now, what you are offering.”

“I fear he does - ” the elf whispered seductively, tangling his slender fingers into Bard’s hair. “And worse, he even approves of my actions.” A smug and suggestive smirk graced his lips and for seconds, Bard was tempted to slap the naughty smirk off the King’s son. Silence fell, and it took a good while until the words of Legolas had completely settled, were comprehended by the man’s swirling mind. The silence was not uncomfortable however, but as soon as Bard had understood the entirety of the indecent proposal the King’s – his lover’s - son was apparently offering on their behalf, his mouth fell open, his eyes widening even further in pure shock and horror.

“This is sick!” Bard screamed when he tried to rise from his seat, but Legolas’ hands and body hold him firmly in place. There was a strength in the elf he had not expected to be there. “No, no, and thrice no! I won’t indulge in your forbidden fantasies of which I highly doubt that they are even true!” Determinedly, he shook his head as if he wanted to strengthen his words, the decision he gave to the indecent proposal.

“How can be desire be any sick, can mutual love be any wrong?” Legolas purred, his words barely audible whilst his long, dark lashes fluttered lidded his eyes seductively. “And believe me when I say those words of mine are truer than you might even anticipate.”

“It simply is!” Bard stated, trying to avoid the flirty yet innocent look on the elf’s face. “Disgusting, forbidden – what else is it called what you do behind closed doors in the darkness of the night? Illicit, condemned among the race of elves and men alike!”

“Aye, aye.” Legolas waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “That is what people say who have never experienced any of it. Believe me or not – it is entirely up to you, King of Dale - but those words are exactly those which we have kept telling each other for many many years – and in our time-span many years mean **_centuries_**. Do you know what sick is? To live a life of denial, to hide your own true feelings, to fight against mutual love! That is sick and beyond cruel!”

For long moments Bard was simply speechless, processing everything what Legolas had said moments ago and the silence that hung between them filled the room with tension. It was madness, everything Legolas had confessed so openly, everything he had offered was beyond sickening - yet in what position was he to judge? Uncontrollably, his mind spun violently from his thoughts alone and the elf’s position did not help to regain his composure.

 

**~~**

“So?” Bard nearly jumped out of his seat, wouldn’t it have been for Legolas’ weight in his lap when he heard the King’s strong voice echoing through the room. Thranduil waved his hand dismissively as the horror-stricken face of Bard met his gentle gaze. “Don’t get bothered by my presence.” he added with the most beautiful smile Bard had ever seen on Thranduil’s features.

 _‘You false, sneaky bastard’_ – Bard could not even name all the emotions that rushed through his mind at once. “So it is true indeed” he mumbled in utter astonishment, his eyes following Thranduil’s graceful movements cautiously, watching him sitting down again in the heavy chair opposite of his own.

“Of course it is.” The elf said, his words accompanied by a now indifferent look on his face. “Do you really think I would let him act like a common whore if I wouldn’t approve?”

Bard’s eyes widened even more if that was ever possible – had Mirkwood’s King actually compared his own son with a whore? He couldn’t believe it, none of it! Rare had been the occasions on which he had been lost for words, but now he certainly was.

“Just to make sure I get everything right. You knew of THIS? Approved of THIS? From the beginning?” Bard snapped harshly, pointing towards Legolas who still sat comfortably atop of him.

“Yes.” Thranduil simply stated, a word that was instantly rewarded with an audible gasp from the man.He had expected many things with those elves, but this was beyond him to understand and a furious anger began to rise deep within him.

“So you fucked me, even if you are apparently fucking your own son since I don’t know when?” Bard yelled furiously, not caring anymore if he would offend the etiquette or the King of the Elves. “What the hell?! You never told me!”

“You never asked.” Thranduil replied, his words accompanied by an apologetic smile. “And if you must know: for exactly nine-hundred and fifty years.” For Bard it was impossible to read the elf’s facial expressions, it were those subtle signs he never understood entirely. Until now, he never had really cared about it, but in this moment it only fueled his anger.

“What does it matter, now?” Legolas whispered softly before Bard could reply, letting his fingers travel over the man’s lips. His soft voice and gentle touches stood in high contrast to Bard’s own harsh words. “I assume you have greatly enjoyed yourself that very night between my father’s sheets, what sense would it have made to tell you anything about us?”

Indeed the night with the Elvenking had been extraordinary pleasant, and it hasn’t left his memory for long days, for long months to be precise.

“But..” Bard retorted in a petulant tone, but he felt his anger subside momentarily under Legolas’ soft touches.

“Is it so bad that we both desire you?” the younger elf purred, locking his gaze with the man’s.

If he wanted or not, he felt his own defenses waver distinctly. Thranduil’s son had a natural gift with his fingers, with his voice and lips. “Nay, but..” Bard answered halfhearted.

The elf’s words were breathed whispered that were meant for his ears alone. “Shh, let go of your guilty conscience – it is the only thing that holds you back to accept my – **_OUR_** – offer.”

Legolas was right, it was the illicit nature of their relationship and his common sense that made it sheer impossible to accept what they were offering freely. Yet he hesitated to decline, it was a once in a life-time opportunity – it would **_never_** happen again, and how could he – a simple mortal man, not long ago a simple bargeman, not fall under the enchanting spell of those fair creatures?

“How can love be any wrong, King of Dale?” Legolas asked once more, before he brushed his lips against the other tentatively, tangling his fingers into the dark hair. “We do not harm a single soul with whatever we are doing.”

Until now, Mirkwood’s King had not said a single word, neither to him nor to his son and heir, apparently entirely content in observing whatever they were doing should be called. When he heard Thranduil’s voice however, his heart seemed to miss a beat. Bard couldn’t understand the elvish words Thranduil that had said to his son, but the tone was commanding and not a second later Legolas jumped from his lap, walking over towards his father.

“I know, patience does not count among your strengths.” The King addressed his son in the common tongue. “But I do give you the advise not rush this matter. Give him time to think instead, Legolas”

“Yes, Ada.” The younger elf replied softly as he came to stand behind him, placing his hands on each shoulder, kneading the taut muscles that were hidden beneath the heavy robe. Soon, his fingers were slipping from Thranduil’s shoulders towards his lips, gently tracing along them until he tangled them in the silken strands, tugging his father’s head carefully behind. Slowly, he bent his own head until their lips met in a tentative, almost chaste kiss, yet it was breathtaking in its intimacy.

Bard knew he should not look, stare at them in the way he did, but it was sheer impossible to avert his eyes from the forbidden caress they shared so openly right in front of him. A faint blush was coloring his cheeks immediately, and involuntarily something began to stir in his loins, even more so when he saw Legolas’ fingers disappear under Thranduil’s robe, trailing slowly downwards. It was madness and he knew he should take his leave – NOW - before it was definitely too late – yet he couldn’t, remaining frozen to the heavy chair in which he sat face-to-face towards them.

“You like what you see” Legolas commented softly, looking right into Bard’s curious eyes. “This – and so much more – it could be all yours for tonight.”

Without awaiting a reply from the man and without paying any notice, the younger elf continued his forbidden task – Bard had no idea what exactly Legolas was doing with his fingers but every touch was rewarded with a soft moan from his father’s mouth; soon the King’s lips were slightly parted, his eyes tightly shut in bliss as Legolas repeatedly kissed the exposed skin of Thranduil’s throat.

Not much later, Bard watched them covetously, longing to be the one who made the Elvenking moan quietly against his touch, wishing he was responsible for the pleasure that rushed through his veins, being so much more than an outside spectator who was not involved in the most enticing sight he had ever seen.

Several times, he swallowed hard in a futile attempt to clear his thoughts, but repeatedly Bard failed, having entirely fallen under the sinful spell of their illicit yet unbelievable arousing touches and kisses. It was a show they gave him, they actually made him observe what he had never wished to see, what he had condemned whole-heartedly only moments ago, and if Bard was honest, it did not fail its course.

From the angle he looked at them he truly saw everything. Their ethereal beauty which was so alike was simply breathtaking, maddening, and there was deep understanding between them, an unity were no words were needed. Slowly, the younger elf began to kiss his father’s closed eyes affectionately, his nose and finally Thranduil’s rosy lips over and over in a chaste manner, until Thranduil claimed his son’s lips fully, kissing him in a way no parent should ever kiss his child. Bard swallowed hard – but it was the very moment when he lost the internal battle he was still fighting.

Legolas’ eyes have actually never left Bard’s form, and soon a knowing smile flickered across the younger elf’s rosy lips. “I think our honored guest has made up his mind, Ada” he whispered against Thranduil’s lips between their passionate kisses.

“Has he?” Thranduil’s eyes opened tantalizingly slow, meeting Bard’s gaze across the distance with a dreamy expression on his face.

As words would certainly fail him, the man simply nodded, rubbing his stubble cautiously as his eyes wandered over Mirkwood’s royal family. He could still hardly believe that he had indeed accepted their indecent proposal only moments ago, it was the demon of temptation who had tricked him into this, who made his head spin violently upon the mere thought what possibly would await him this very night.

Now two identical pairs of stunning blue eyes were fixed upon him, apparently awaiting a proper answer. When Bard remained quiet, it was the King’s echoing voice which broke the silence. “Then let us give him a night to remember, just as I have promised our honored guest this afternoon” Thranduil said with a broad smile which was certainly directed at Bard, whereas the following words that were accompanied by a gentle touch against Legolas’ cheek were meant for his son alone. “Put that pretty mouth of yours to some good use.” Mirkwood’s King demanded of his son as if it was the most normal thing to say.

Bard’s dark eyes widened once more. Had he just? No, this couldn’t be.. Bard shook his head in disbelief, it was simply impossible – again he soon found out be mistaken.

“As only you may command me.” Legolas purred with a coy smirk that wasn’t coy at the slightest, kissing his father one last time before he walked over, placing his hands distinctly on Bard’s thighs.

“I .. I .. “ Bard only stammered, but before he could say anything that would make sense, Legolas’ lips brushed against his own, with the Elvenking’s taste still lingering on them – it was madness, but it was utterly divine, arousing at the same time – the last internal struggle had been completely lost. “No. You will shut up now” he heard Legolas say and not a second later, the elf kissed him properly, and it appeared as if the son had learned indeed many things from his father, the art of kissing certainly among them.

 _‘Gods’_ \- this was the most wicked thing Bard had ever done in his entire life of constant rebellion (and indeed there had been a few incidences which could be described as rather naughty in his youth).

“With pleasure, Ada.” The younger elf cooed, gently pushing the man’s legs apart and almost simultaneously he sank onto his knees between them in a graceful motion.

 

**~~**

 


	5. Chapter 05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard receives the best blowjob of his life...

**Chapter 05**

**~~**

The smile that graced Legolas’ lips was divine, and it was the combination of utter wickedness with coyness that was breathtaking, that added to his own excitement. Not even half an hour ago, he had laughed wholeheartedly when the elf had offered the indecent proposal, indeed he had not even given the mere idea a second thought, dismissing it immediately as a figment of Legolas’ naughty mind. His mind, however, still refused to entirely comprehend the situation, Bard thought to himself as he watched the younger elf, disbelief still spread across his face, his dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly when Legolas began to fidget with his trousers.

But Legolas would not be himself if he did not make sure to brush repeatedly for mere seconds, ‘accidentally’ against the prominent bulge in the man’s leggings until his breath hitched, pretending that he had not even noticed. Bard furrowed his brow, but the elf only answered with the sweetest smile that was available, deciding to ignore the questioning stare for once.

_‘Damn elves’_ Bard thought briefly as his gaze flickered between Thranduil, whose lips were also graced with a beautiful smile, and his son back and forth. However, it was the younger one’s voice that tore him out of this silent musings.

“A common whore .. how my father prefers to call me every once in a while … hardly wears a crown.” Legolas stated indifferently to himself but loud enough for both to hear. With those words the circlet which certainly was worth half a fortune flew carelessly onto the floor. And not a moment later, Legolas’ fingers resumed their actions with the lacings of the man’s trousers, looking up at him under half-lidded eyes.

“Right.” Bard heard the King comment casually as if this – everything! - was the most natural thing to occur between father and son – and as if this was not enough already, an additional third party. In fact, Bard still had troubles to believe it to be reality. Briefly, his gaze shifted again towards Thranduil who now lounged in his chair cross-legged, apparently entirely at ease to watch his own son pleasuring his lover in such a way. With a brief nod of approval he answered Bard’s questioning stare, bringing the silvery goblet to his lips as if he still sat at the dinner table, before he addressed Legolas again. “And you don’t need the fancy robe either. Take it off.” he remarked nonchalantly.

Bard was not even certain any more what aroused him more. The prospect of what was about to come (his imagination already painted the most vivid scenarios in his head), the filthy words that spilled so freely from both Legolas’ and Thranduil’s lips or the fact that the King watched his own son and heir pleasuring his lover with his mouth, even giving him subtle commands. Most likely it was the utterly sinful combination of all three and involuntarily Bard ached his back against the soft fabric of the chair in pure anticipation. It had been countless years since he had last received what the younger elf was offering so freely – the mere thought about it almost made him lose his mind.

“As you wish, father.” Legolas replied flirtatiously, and began to unbutton the expensive garment tantalizingly slow, his eyes gazing expectantly upwards to meet Bard’s eyes who watched those slender fingers expectantly. But apart from this, he remained frozen to his chair, not yet daring to touch the beautiful creature that was kneeling between his parted legs. Inch by inch, more of the elf’s perfect ivory skin was revealed - until he finally allowed the garment to lasciviously slip from his shoulders. Bard’s eyes travelled from Legolas’ shining eyes down his throat, over his shoulders and arms. Where Thranduil was extraordinary broad and muscular for an elf, his son had the lithe and slender, almost feminine features that were so typical for the immortal race of Elves. Their faces, even their blue eyes and lips were almost identical, yet in their stature father and son differed visibly. Both were otherworldly beautiful in their very own way, and Bard sheer absorbed the sight the now half-nude elf presented.

When his gaze wandered distinctly lower over the flawless body and fell onto the silvery rings that were pierced right through Legolas’ nipples, Bard’s eyes widened even further. The mere sight sent a shiver down his spine – **_THAT_** must have hurt like crazy and he had never seen anything like this. “Would you like to touch them?” Legolas whispered with a knowing smile, either misinterpreting Bard’s facial expression or deciding to ignore it. It was the latter and he was almost certain that Bard would desire to do so after the first shock had disappeared. Those rings held a strange fascination to those who have never seen anything like it before, and Legolas doubted that Bard would be any different from the rest. When Bard remained quiet, still staring down at him in a mixture of fascination and disgust, he took one of the man’s hands into his own and lifted them until they were only inches away from his pierced nipples. Cautiously, he led Bard’s fingers towards it and allowed the digits to brush carefully, yet repeatedly against it.

“Why? I mean .. what? Do you wear them for a reason or is it simply for aesthetic reasons?” Bard inquired softly, unable to avert his eyes from the silvery rings. To his surprise it did not feel odd or cold at all and he had to admit that his curiosity was indeed picked, most likely the very reason why Legolas allowed him to touch it.

“Aye, they do have a meaning…“ the elf replied with an honest smile, his eyes glistening in the candle-light.

“What is it? I mean their meaning.” Bard asked curiously, with his fingertips still dancing over the elf’s nipples until they turned to full hardness. He was so occupied with his caresses that he had not even noticed that his hands were moving on his own accord; Legolas had long withdrawn his own hands.

“Well, it is rather simple, Bard of Laketown.” Legolas begun, his smile broadening with every word that left his lips. “They mean property of the King.”

Bard’s eyes instantly widened in shock and his fingers flinched as if his hand would burn if he dared to touch a moment longer. _‘This is madness’_ he thought to himself, whilst his eyes wandered once more to Thranduil who simply nodded.

“You – both of you – are truly insane!” The words were out even before Bard knew he had something to say in this matter, and quickly he covered his mouth with his hand, being slightly ashamed for the insult.

“Possibly. If we were not you would hardly be in the position you are right now.” Legolas cut his father’s words off immediately, even before Thranduil had said a single syllable. “See. I cannot wear a wedding band, right? Yet I desperately wish to have a constant reminder of the special relationship we share and this is the very reason why I have them. For many centuries now.” Aye, Bard totally could understand Legolas’ motives, treasuring his own wedding ring like the most precious thing that existed in this world. Yet, their relationship was so odd, so wrong in many ways that such a token somehow seemed entirely inappropriate. But in what position was he to judge? It was Legolas’ now low and seductive voice that disrupted this silent thoughts. “But believe me they also offer some other, rather pleasurable amenities. If you wish I will let you find out… Later.” Legolas snickered, amused by Bard’s stare of disbelief. “But enough of the talking right now.” He added, resuming the actions with Bard’s trousers once more.

“Legolas? Do not disappoint my guest.” Thranduil remarked, still holding the silvery goblet in his jewel-adorned fingers. Bard’s mouth dropped open – every time when he thought it could not get more wicked, naughty, insane – how ever this should be called, he found out to be mistaken.

_‘Shut up!’_ Legolas thought to himself and rolled his eyes, but it was impossible not to comment on it – after all it was THEIR guest, this had been HIS idea. At first, he recalled vividly, his father wished to hear none of it and if he was honest to himself he had rather tricked Thranduil into acceptance. “How about doing it yourself if you doubt my talent?” Legolas asked coyly, his words nothing more than a breathed whisper that stood in high contrast to the annoyed glance he shot towards his Sire. “You know … I’ve always wished to see you on your knees.” he added dreamingly “finally putting that pretty mouth of yours to some good use.”

“You may wish for it the rest of your immortal life, my dear.” Mirkwood’s King replied with laughter as if it was the most absurd thing on earth. “And now shut up – will you?”

“Yes.” Legolas muttered in played annoyance and indeed he did not say a word for a while.

 

**~~**

Distinctly, his hands wandered along Bard’s thighs until they brushed against the painfully hard bulge in the man’s trousers and the elf licked his lips in anticipation the moment he was certain that Bard indeed watched him.

Soon, the last knot in the lacings was undone and the single button opened, and not a second later the elf’s skillful fingers freed his arousal which was rewarded instantly with a sharp intake of breath – from both.

“I’ve never tried .. a mortal man” Legolas breathed, shifting his position until his lips were only inches away from Bard’s weeping arousal, his fingertips running along it in feathery touches that were truly maddening. “I did not think I ever would..”

“I highly doubt that there is any different between a man and an elf.” Thranduil commented, disturbing his son’s musings.

There were times when Legolas truly hated his father – and now certainly was such a moment; wouldn’t it have been for their guest his answer would have been ‘slightly’ different. “Shut up, I did not speak to you. Let me expression my curiosity.”

“Oh pardon me, I have never said anything.” Thranduil replied, irony audible in his voice. Bard was certainly beyond the point he could care, with Legolas’ lips lingering only an inch away from his cock. His heart beat violently against his chest, tiny droplets of sweat already forming on his forehead – he simply wished that they get over and done with their futile conversation. Thranduil continued in a low, almost warning voice. “Just let me add one thing, and I promise I will keep quiet, but maybe it will increase your curiosity further.”

“So?” Legolas snapped impatiently, his breath dancing over Bard’s arousal.

“Well. There’s for everything a first time, don’t you think? I guess you have never been fucked by a mortal man, either, yet you might wish to know that it **_WILL_** happen, my dear.”

Actually, this was the first time that Legolas eyes widened ever so slightly, unsure if he had not misheard his father’s words. Yet he remained quiet, at least he did not say anything. Unseen by Bard, his hand formed an insulting gesture which his father certainly would understand.

_‘Gods, stop this now’_ Bard was tempted to scream, but to his relief it was never truly necessary as not a second later the elf’s tongue flickered across the tip of his length. Only then, Thranduil’s words penetrated his mind and he gasped audibly – both from the understanding **_WHAT_** exactly Mirkwood’s King had said, implied and from the sensation originating from Legolas’ wicked tongue. If he had only half the talent with his mouth than he had with his feet, he’d be a quivering mess within minutes, Bard thought to himself.

Soon, all musings ceased. Legolas blonde hair that almost carried a golden note in the candle-light was dusted over his thighs, hanging over the elf’s shoulders and chest, covering the creamy skin whilst those rosy lips slowly encircled his cock, flickering his tongue all around its head until the first audible gasp escaped Bard’s lips. Apparently this ‘praise’ was all Legolas had been waiting for, finally indulging himself whole-heartedly in pleasuring his father’s lover with his mouth. It did not even take minutes until Bard was a quivering mess - wonderful was a complete underestimation for what the elf did with his wicked mouth and tongue, it was the perfect mixture of utterly soft caresses and firm sucking. Gently, he began to bob his head up and down, working the flat of his tongue against Bard’s cock until the man writhed against the chair, almost unable to keep eye-contact with him anymore. This – and that Legolas not even once used his fingers tou touch him - only added to his excitement; it was the innocent look from half-lidded eyes that nearly undid him instantly.

No matter what he did, his eyes were obediently directed upwards almost as if he was awaiting a command from the one he pleasured. Yet Bard remained quiet – apart from the endless gasps and moans that danced through the room.

For a while Thranduil had been entirely content by simply watching them from afar, taking his pleasure in the sinful display they offered, having the perfect angle from his seat, those sounds that his son’s mouth elicited from his lover’s lips. A seductive smile graced the King’s lips and when their gazes met across the distance, and a fierce tremor rushed through Bard’s body, making him tremble under Legolas’ ministrations and his father’s intensive stare. “Gods, you are killing me” he heard himself gasp hoarsely, his words interrupted by several loud moans as Legolas sunk down his entire length until his nose brushed against his pelvis.

The elf mumbled something which possibly could be deciphered into ‘with pleasure’ but Bard couldn’t tell for certain, but it mattered little as the words elicited another spark of lust within him, sending the most divine vibrations through his entire body. No words were made to describe just how fantastic he felt under Legolas’ wet and eager mouth that he nearly forgot everything around him, delving deep into the blissful desire, letting his eyes fall shut for the blink of an eye.

“You certainly can do better. Or do you require assistance?” Thranduil whispered against Bard’s ear with a broad smile, and his eyes snapped immediately open. He had no idea how the elf had managed to stand suddenly behind him, leaning in until his long hair brushed against his shoulders, against his chest. Even if the words were meant for Legolas alone, Bard doubted that they could be even only partly true. Most likely, they were meant as another tease between them, because whatever Legolas did was utter perfection, not describable with words. Maybe there existed something in the alien tongue of the Elves, in the world of men certainly no such words did exist. In his totally unbiased opinion, it was a fucking excellent blow job which couldn’t possibly get any better. If he was shamelessly honest, it was the best one he had **_EVER_** received.

Centuries of training apparently have not failed their course.

Legolas shook his head, mumbling something incoherently against Bard’s cock – the vibrations let a shiver crawl up his spine, assisted by Thranduil’s hands that had sneaked beneath his tunic, and were dancing over his already hard nipples now. It was simply too much, too much stimulation at once, possibly already more than he could bear. Fiercely, his hands clutched the armrest in a futile attempt to steady himself until his knuckles shone white, prolonging the bliss just a little longer.

“Although he might look like it, he’s not made out of porcelain nor is he an innocent angel, even if he pretends to be one at times when he is nothing more than a naughty brat. He won’t break apart if you dare to touch him.” Thranduil remarked with a husky laugh against his skin. Not a second later, Legolas’ brought his hands towards Bard’s own which still gripped the armrest. Bard swallowed hard, but allowed the elf to guide his hands until they rested against the back of his head, touching the silken hair.

“And worse: he likes it, actually **_LOVES_** it when he’s treated rather rough. Not by chance I entitled him a common whore previously…”

Bard gasped audible, blushing immediately scarlet upon the King’s words, but Legolas only nodded, swallowing even more of his cock if that was ever possible. Even while he was doing something so obscene, letting his own father command him indeed like a whore, Legolas still looked completely innocent, apparently entirely agreeing with everything his Sire had said.

This was truly madness, and actually Thranduil had been completely right if Bard had wanted to believe it or not. Legolas could indeed do better, what the younger elf was doing now was utterly divine, and would him certainly push him over the edge within the blink of an eye.

“Relax your throat, Legolas.” The King demanded whilst he massaged Bards shoulders beneath the tunic.

Hesitantly, Bard pulled him forward by his silken hair just in the moment when Legolas was about to withdraw to catch his breath. “Aye, like this.” The other was whispering against his ear, but the King’s words were soon lost on him when the younger coughed, nearly choked around his arousal, sending the most wonderful vibrations through his entire body. Immediately, he let go of Legolas’ head, feeling slightly guilty and also ashamed for what he had done a second ago, yet it felt so good, so incredible good – he wanted, even needed this again. And again until he would lose his mind.

_‘I can’t’_ Bard thought, it just felt so incredibly wrong. It almost was as if Thranduil could read his very mind (of course, the elf could not, observation was enough). “No need for hesitation - believe me .. he’s used to worse.”

Again, Legolas nodded and swallowed hard around Bard’s cock before he took the man all the way in again, stilling his movements when his lips brushed against the base.

“Hold him down” – this time Bard followed his lover’s advice, keeping Legolas’ head firmly in place with his hands until he gasped helplessly around him, his hands gripping Bard’s thighs firmly, almost scratching him through the fabric. “GODS” was all Bard managed to choke out when he let go once more, allowing the elf to catch some air.

Where he had expected discomfort he only could see a smile on Legolas’ features.

“I told you – he likes it that way.” Thranduil commented – satisfaction clearly audible in his voice, but Bard still had his doubts about it, but for once he refrained from spearking, accepting it as another detail in their rather unusual relationship. After all those centuries, Thranduil definitely should know what his son enjoyed.

Tantalizingly slow, Legolas encircled his arousal once more, licking along the slit with the tip of his tongue until soft moans tumbled from Bard’s lips, his head fallen back a little – he still watched him, and Legolas never averted his eyes, staring both in Bard’s and his father’s darkened eyes. Never before have they done anything like this, but it drove him wild with desire; Thranduil’s piercing stare resting on his lips, those filthy comments, and his own strange will to obey, to please his Sire. In fact, right now he was giving them a show to remember and he was not certain who of them enjoyed it more to watch him.

Seductively, he let his eye-lids flutter repeatedly whilst his tongue licked along the prominent vain of Bard’s cock, before he finally sunk down the length, inch by inch until the tip brushed against the back of his throat. Involuntarily, he relaxed his jaw and fought back the urge to cough, stilling his movements entirely until it seemed as if Bard couldn’t take anymore, moaning and thrashing against the chair helplessly. This time, the grip against the back of his head tightened and not a moment later, the man began to thrust eagerly into his eager mouth until he indeed coughed and gagged around it, and tears begun to form in his sparkling eyes.

“Aye.” Legolas mumbled incoherently against Bard’s cock and was rewarded instantly by another, certainly accidental thrust, accompanied by another treacherous moan that spilled from the man’s parted lips. A hitch in the man’s breathing as well as the fact that his thrusts became more erratic, told Legolas that Bard was so close, so very close.

It was a pity indeed, Legolas thought to himself that Bard wouldn’t last much longer (for which his actions beneath the table where certainly responsible). Now that the man had finally given up to treat him as if he would scatter into a thousand pieces if he treated him too roughly he easily could continue his task for some more minutes.

Another motion up and down Bard’s entire length and a dreamy hum around it was enough to let the man’s entire body jerk. Bard gasped and screamed his release simultaneously and Legolas was not certain, but it nearly was as if the man screamed both their names as he came deep down his throat, gripping the silken strands in his fist fiercely until it actual **_DID_** hurt. Legolas did not complain nor care about the pain that rushed through him for a second, loosing himself completely in Bard’s orgasm, watching him come undone under his lips alone.  

If he wished to admit it or not, did not matter. His father had been completely right. Again. Men did not taste much different than elves, after all.


	6. Chapter 06

**Chapter 06**

**~~**

 

With a naughty smirk, Legolas rose to his feet again and not a moment later he was sitting astride of Bard. His cheeks were flushed, his lips rosy and still wet from saliva and cum. Tantalizingly slow, the elf licked away the last remains from his ministration, letting his tongue flicker over the corner of his mouth with half-lidded eyes, pretending it was the most divine taste on earth. Bard was still at a loss, his mind blissfully hazed in the wonderful state of post-orgasm but somehow his hands found their way around the elf’s waist, pulling him close against his heated body.

Legolas was pure seduction, the sight he presented breathtaking and a shiver ran down his spine when their eyes briefly met before the elf kissed him with fierce passion. _‘Gods’_ was all Bard managed to think when he tasted himself on those eager, never tiring lips. For brief moments he almost forgot about the little detail that they were not alone, loosing himself in the sweet caress.

“Don’t be so possessive.” said a soft voice behind him with a chuckle and skillful fingers began to travel up and down his throat. Even before he could ponder his thoughts who exactly was addressed by the statement, Legolas broke their kiss and gazed upwards to meet his father’s eyes.

“I never would. Forgive me, Ada.” The younger elf breathed, letting his long lashes flutter seductively. The game they were playing was an utterly wicked one and if Bard had originally wanted or not, he slowly became part of it.

Instantly, Legolas shifted his position once again. Gently, he placed his hands on Bard’s shoulders and pushed himself upwards to meet Thranduil’s eyes and lips. His pierced nipples now ghosted right before the man’s eyes. For moments, Bard stared mesmerized – it almost seemed as if the elf did it on purpose. When he leaned in a little closer until one of the rings brushed against Bard’s lips it was beyond obvious what Legolas truly desired.

 _‘Wicked folk’_ Bard mumbled to himself, but at the same time he parted his lips ever so slightly and accepted the silent invitation. With a little hesitation he began to let his tongue flicker over the already hardened nub, still convinced that even that must hurt like hell. But it did not! A visible tremor rushed through Legolas’ body upon the double sensation; his lips caught in a searing kiss, his most sensitive spot caressed in such a manner.

“Oh fuck” Legolas mumbled against his Sire’s lips in heated desire, clutching the man’s shoulders firmly. Bard recalled his lover’s words _‘he likes it rough, do not treat him like a doll made out of porcelain’_ with a shiver, but was finally convinced that those piercings did not hurt – apparently quite the contrary. When he intensified his caresses he was instantly rewarded with an audible moan from Legolas’ lips that was immediately swallowed. Bard was unable to see what exactly they were doing from his position but it mattered little, as he lost himself in sucking and biting the hard nipple until Legolas’ fingernails scratched along his chest. Involuntarily the younger elf broke the kiss he shared with his father when his head fell backwards with a sharp intake of breath. The shift of position was accompanied with a roll of his hips against Bard’s form, making him feel the elf’s erection against his stomach.

“And who allowed you this?” Thranduil inquired in a deadly calm tone when he grabbed a fist of his son’s long hair, pulling Legolas’ head backwards even further. Bard couldn’t see much from his position but the elf flinched visibly under the harsh words and touch.

“At times I take my liberties and make my own decision.” Legolas stated with an innocent smile, well aware that it would only annoy his father further. “As far as I remember you haven’t complained for a while.” he added, rubbing his erection repeatedly against Bard’s stomach, not caring if Thranduil approved or not.

“And as far as I remember I have taught you some manners which you have entirely forgotten.” The King replied in a sharp tone.

“Maybe you could teach me some again?” Legolas almost begged, mischief audible in his voice. Thranduil simply raised an eyebrow on this, not giving his son’s request a second thought.

Bard’s eyes widened and his mouth gasped ajar, letting the elf’s nipple slip from his lips. It was crystal clear to what exactly Legolas was referring. By now he should have learned not to be surprised by **_ANYTHING_** , but there he was again, stunned by just how deep depravity went between them. Wicked was an understatement concerning to those elves.

“Keep on dreaming, my dear.” Thranduil laughed. “The answer is rather simple: NO”

“Just a little?” Legolas pushed the matter, hoping to change his father’s mind.

“No, no and thrice NO! And now have the dignity get off **_my_** man.” he demanded. His words were rewarded with a pointed look on Legolas’ face who was in no mood to get up from Bard, feeling entirely comfortable. “I fear our guest needs a while to recover.” Mirkwood’s King said innocently, letting his eyes flicker briefly over Bard who still panted heavily, caught in the beautiful haze of post-orgasm. “Now come, don’t be so stubborn.”

“Such a pity..” Legolas whispered against his father’s lips, before he caught them in a deep kiss.

With an exaggerated sigh he broke the kiss and finally climbed off Bard’s lap. “Goodbye, my dear” he breathed just before he let his lips dance across Bard’s. And not a second later, Legolas almost danced through the room on bare feet into the direction of the empty chairs, his movements followed by two pairs of curious eyes.

 

~~

With a naughty smirk and a twinkle in his eyes, he let himself fall into the massive chair over the armrest and not a moment later, he ‘sat’ in it upside down, his legs leaning against the backrest, his head hanging down that his long hair brushed against the wooden floor. The smile that greeted Bard was breathtaking – wicked, naughty, utterly sinful, even if Bard had no true idea why.

However, the mystery was solved only seconds later. “Legolas, stop it!” Thranduil demanded, his words accompanied by an annoyed sigh. “I do not want to fuck your pretty mouth right now. Get up.”

Bard swallowed hard, blushing scarlet all over again. This was insanity and worse, the position the younger elf was in was utterly perfect for such frivolities. Never before in his life had he even thought about anything like it, but now the man was certain the idea would not leave him as long as he lived. As ridiculous and inappropriate it might be – the thought alone was beyond thrilling.

“But maybe our honored guest would like to?” Legolas asked coyly with a broad smile as if he could read Bard’s very mind.

The man’s cheeks reddened even further if that was ever possible. Of course Legolas couldn’t read Bard’s mind, but he was rather good at interpreting facial expressions. And Bard was an open book to read. His stare had been beyond obvious.

“Legolas I warn you. I have had enough of your little games.” The king snapped, coming to stand next to the chair in which his son ‘sat’ rather unconventionally. “And I daresay that our guest would rather fuck your tight hole than your mouth. The same goes for me I wish to add.”

“Such filthy words … “ Legolas laughed, mimicking his father’s voice. “Not suited for royalty…”

Bard had a hard time to suppress his laughter. Legolas sounded indeed like Mirkwood’s King and he actually could see the elder elf scolding his son like this for something with exactly those words.

“Legolas…” Thranduil warned once more.

“Oh forgive me, Ada” Legolas said with a coy smirk. However, he remained in the very position, still lying on the chair upside down.

“I think I have made myself clear, haven’t I?”

Bard furrowed his brow, disbelief mingled with curiosity audible in his voice. “Pardon me, if I interrupt you, but you have not even asked him about this?!”

“Oh Bard, since when do Kings ask for things? _‘Oh please please, this would be lovely if you could do this’_ he said, imitating a voice Bard did not recognize – but the tone told enough, being filled with mockery. “That is not how it goes. We give orders and they are obeyed. This is how it ever was, how it will ever be, King of Dale. So you probably get better used to it.”

“But don’t you think this is **_slightly_** different?”

“No.” Thranduil stated indifferently. “My son he might be, but I am still his King and superior…”

Bard simply shook his head in wonder – he was not even certain if this wasn’t another game they have decided to play with him as Legolas did not even seem to mind his father’s suggestion at all.

Yet he could not refrain from commenting on it. “Yes – your son and not your sla...” Bard said, but bit his tongue before the last word was out – definitely he would have overdone it with it. Only then Legolas shifted his position and sprang to his feet, coming to stand next to his father.

“Slave .. such a nasty word.” Legolas mused aloud, searching for Bard’s dark eyes. “You are right, but so very wrong at the same time, Bard of Laketown. Son, slave, thrall, a common whore, Mirkwood’s spoiled Prince, an insolent brat – name me as you wish – in these halls I can pretend to be whatever I wish, whatever my master asks me to be. And believe me, I’ve been ALL.”

It was one of the absolutely rare occasions that Bard was lost for words. Any other time, he would have doubted every single one of the elf’s words – right now he was not so certain anymore. Wicked folk was an extraordinary understatement for Mirkwood’s royal family. Depraved perverts was most likely more accurate.

“Master … I have to admit I like this, Legolas..” Thranduil whispered and kissed his son’s lips affectionately shifting their angle ever so slightly until Bard had the perfect view. Only then, he began to explore Legolas’ mouth, letting his large hands slip beneath the fabric of Legolas’ leggings. “I fear those have to fall.” he stated between kisses and not a moment later, he simply tore the fabric apart.

“FUCK YOU, those were expensive.” Legolas hissed, it had been his favorite pair and his father knew it!

Thranduil only laughed whole-heartedly. “What of it? Since when are we bankrupt, little one?” he teased. “And I’ve said it once – and I will repeat it again: I WOULD if I only could, but for the moment fucking you has to be enough.”

 _‘GODS’_ Bard thought with wide eyes. It was so wrong, so very wrong what they did, yet their talk was so incredible arousing at the same time. Despite the fact that he had only spent himself in Legolas’ mouth minutes ago, something stirred in his loins again.

“Are you telling me, that I am number-two choice?!” The younger elf snapped.

“Well … what about number-three choice?” the King offered with a twinkle in his eyes, meeting Bard’s gaze across the distance. Legolas glared, not knowing if his father’s words were true or only said to mock him. It mattered little. “You bastard” the younger elf breathed softly, and not a moment later, he pushed his father and King into the chair with a strength that made Bard gasp in astonishment. Somehow neither he nor Thranduil had expected Legolas movement as both stared at each other in disbelief..

“Excuse you?!” Thranduil snapped towards his son who did not seem impressed at all, climbing on top of him.

“It’s your own fault.” He replied apologetically, leaning in. “Allow me to use your very words: ‘I’d rather fuck your tight hole than your mouth’ – had been exactly what you have said. Vague, indeed. And forgive me if I took the liberty to decide how exactly you are going to fuck me.”

Actually, the younger elf had no idea what exactly his father had planned, not even if he had planned anything at all. But Thranduil was in no position to argue right now, being pinned against the chair by his son’s weight.

Bard’s stared shamelessly, letting his eyes wander down Legolas’ spine until they came to a comfortable rest on the elf’s perfectly shaped buttocks. _‘This .. and so much more can be all yours tonight’_ had been Legolas’ words. Now they rushed through his mind as Bard absorbed the breathtaking beauty of the naked elf. It was impossible to tell which one of them was more beautiful, yet he caught himself doing exactly this as he sunk further into the comfortable chair. Their lips were only inches away from each other but they didn’t kiss, a strange tension hanging between them, Bard observed.

However, his silent musing was violently interrupted by Legolas’ squeaking voice and his eyes snapped open in an instant.

“OUCH.” the younger elf hissed in pure surprise as his backside was slapped hard by one of his father’s hands. “What was that for?” he inquired with wide eyes.

“Inappropriate behavior towards your superiors” Thranduil answered with a broad and naughty smirk.

The strike that followed was even harder than the first and Bard and Legolas gasped in unison. “OUCH”

“Questioning my decisions.” Mirkwood’s king stated, before rising his hand again.

“OUCH”

When his father remained quiet, Legolas inquired mischievously. “And what was that for?”

“Well. How about a bonus?” he breathed seductively, his smile radiating and breathtaking alike “Simply because I know you like it?”

“Hannon le” (thank you) Legolas said affectionately, brushing a golden strand out of his father’s face.

Bard couldn’t tell anymore what was right or wrong with Mirkwood’s family and he shook his head in wonder and amazement, watching how the ivory skin of Legolas’ backside turned red and redder. In silence he cursed himself – it was so very wrong, yet his cock was painfully hard all over again.

They were just so incredibly rude to each other in a way he had never witnessed before between family members, yet so affectionate and loving at the same time. And it was the fact that they did not hold back despite his presence that made his stomach flutter even if he knew it was just as wrong as anything could ever be.

He couldn’t exactly see what Legolas did with his fingers, but given the King’s facial expression it was not the most unpleasant thing on earth.

“I fear you are wearing too many clothes.” Legolas whispered against his father’s lips, his hands already busy undoing the countless buttons of Thranduil’s robes. Bard couldn’t disagree with this statement.

“Better… so much better” he heard the younger elf say when the restricting garment finally fell onto the floor. Only once Bard had seen Mirkwood’s King like this before, in the winter night they have shared in the ruins of Dale some month ago. A pleasant memory that had warmed his heart often when the icy wind howled through the deserted streets. With a dreamy smile he let his eyes linger for long moments on the perfect skin that seemed to glow in the flickering candle-light, observing the flexing muscles beneath it. A little to his surprise, his lover’s hands lay idle at his side, letting his son do with him as he pleased. Experimentally, Legolas began to kiss his father’s chest, his nipples before they wandered further up towards his neck and lips. They exchanged a few words that Bard couldn’t understand before they passionately kissed.

The sight before him was nothing but intoxicating. It sheer took his breath away and Bard did not know where to look first. One of Thranduil’s hands was tangled in Legolas’ silken strands whilst the other lay around his son’s waist, pulling him close into the embrace. But it was the expression on their faces, the silent moans and needy whimpers that soon filled the room when they kissed as if there was no tomorrow. Never before had Bard seen such a sensual display right before his eyes. Never has he thought he would enjoy watching. Yet there he was, his stomach fluttering, his cock hard again, sheer unable to avert his eyes.

When they broke their kiss, a dreamy smile graced the younger elf’s lips. “Apologies …” Legolas began, tilting his head a little to the side to meet Bard’s curious eyes. “To make you watch what you never wished to see.” There was a mischievous, yet understanding twinkle in the elf’s eyes.

He already knew that Bard was long past the state where he would care about his moral beliefs. And Legolas was right in his assumption. Deep inside, Bard was still aware of the fact that everything they did was as wrong as anything could ever be. But even if he wanted to, it was sheer impossible to look away with the sight they presented. And worse: the forbidden nature of their relationship began to add to his excitement, making his cock twitch against his stomach.

 _‘I hate you – both of you!’_ Bard cursed in silence. (that was at least what he had thought – in truth his words had been perfectly understandable for both of them)

“No you don’t.” Legolas replied with a naughty smirk. “You don’t even hate the idea. In truth you like what you see, it thrills you, It arouses you even if you would never admit it.” The younger elf added, his eyes now resting on his prominent erection.

There was nothing he could answer in his defense – his body betrayed him. And this was only the beginning as Bard soon found out.

“Legolas. Staring in such an impertinent manner is inappropriate.” Thranduil scolded him and brought his fingers under his son’s chin to make Legolas look at him again. “Do not let your mind go astray.”

“I never would.” He lied, resuming his action to free his father’s cock from the restricting fabric.

“And: Do not lie.” Thranduil warned, shifting their position until his lips were only inches away from one jewel-adorned nipple. At first, his tongue flickered around the nub until it hardened all over again, enclosing it with his rosy lips until a needy whimper tumbled from Legolas’ lips.

From his position, Bard could literally see ** _EVERYTHING_**. How Thranduil took the little ring between his teeth, pulling on it until a sharp gasp of pain left his son’s lips. How his large hands rested on Legolas’ firm and red buttocks. How his slender fingers revealed the most private part shamelessly, pushing a fingertip inside until Legolas’ head fell back with a moan. He even could see the ring of muscles clench around the alien invasion.

 _‘Oh fuck’_ Bard gasped as his lover’s finger disappeared inch by inch in the tight channel. Never before had he observed another couple doing something like this. Never before had he desired to watch something like this. Never had he even thought he would enjoy such a shameless display of desire. Now he couldn’t look away and absently, his hand found its way around his hard erection. With half-lidded eyes he began to stroke his cock in the same rhythm as Mirkwood’s King fucked his own son with his fingers, every motion accompanied by little whines and needy whimpers falling from Legolas’ lips.

“Be grateful that we have a guest..” he heard Thranduil say in a mysterious tone but Bard was unable to make head or tail of those words. Certainly it was something wicked again, another perversion. What else could he expect from those damn elves that obviously had no shame left? And of course his assumption had been correct. “I fear he is not overly fond of fucking your abused little cunt.” his lover added in an indifferent tone as if it was the most normal thing to say to his child.

Bard swallowed hard, meeting his lover’s gaze across the distance. It was madness and impossible to understand how his lover could smile his most innocent smile saying such filthy words, giving him insight to something which was probably never meant to be shared with another. But it was his son’s reaction that startled him even more. Where Bard had expected annoyance, even a tantrum upon his father’s words, or a sigh of relief maybe? He could not even tell what exactly he had expected but certainly not THIS.

“Such a pity….” Legolas only commented. Was there disappointment audible in his voice? Bard simply couldn’t believe it and all he managed to do was to shake his head in wonder. When they had been together, Bard had experienced Thranduil to be the most attentive lover on earth. Something that he had never expected Mirkwood’s King to be for some reason. Thranduil had taken his time to prepare him properly. Even when Bard had urged him countless times to take him, quivering with need beneath his body he had tarried.

Now it was hard to believe that this should have been an exception.

“Ada … “ Legolas urged, his voice filled with need and desire, unable to hold back anymore. “Please.” He whispered against his father’s neck, kissing his way up until his lips reached Thranduil’s ears, until a silent moan filled the room.

For the moment, Bard observed with some amusement, he had indeed relinquished control to his son and allowed him do with him as he pleased as he was occupied coating his fingers with oil. Soon the heavy fragrance of lavender accompanied with the incense of the forest filled the room.

 _‘Gods’_ the man thought and instantly, his mind recalled every single detail of their own shared night. The smell was enough to elicit those wonderful memories all over again – it was the same oil the elf had used to prepare him back then.

Shortly after, Legolas had lost all control. Over what they did and over his body, too as it seemed. Repeatedly, those slick and oily fingers disappeared in his hole. Over and over again until a string of moans escaped his lips, until his hands clutched firmly against his father’s shoulders. Needy whimpers spilled freely from his mouth, interrupted by gasps and moans. “More … please .. valar ..Ada … please” The younger elf commented literally everything, a fact that Bard only aroused further.

Thranduil had been extraordinary quiet whilst he had fucked him into the mattress in his provisional pavilion some month past. _‘What remains quiet in the father, speaks in the son’_ Bard thought with amusement, only to feel a wave of guilt rush through him shortly after. He had no idea since when he was so easily tricked into something he had wholeheartedly despised only hours ago. Something he had never even dared to think of that it existed on earth.

It was Legolas’ voice that interrupted his silent musing.

“Oh please… enough of this.” The younger elf begged.

“Enough of what?” Thranduil inquired, furrowing his brow delicately. It was obvious to what his son was referring, it was nothing else than cruel torture.

“Of your damn fingers.”

“Oh are we complaining, my little one?”

“For fuck’s sake, yes. They are hardly enough. Please, Ada.”

“Please what?” Thranduil asked with a naughty smirk.

“Fuck me.”

“Oh you will do the work, so what are you waiting for, Legolas? You already could have had it minutes ago.. if you would only use your brain to think and not your cock” Mirkwood’s King said nonchalantly.

Bard stared in disbelief and shock upon the insult.

The reaction of the younger elf was instant. “I hate you.” he screamed and was about to slap his father right across the face. Wouldn’t it have been for Thranduil catching his wrist before the strike fell he would have succeeded.

“No you don’t.” Thranduil replied, tearing at the tiny ring again until his son hissed another elvish curse through gritted teeth, struggling violently against the firm hold. “And I’ve already told you: Do. Not. Lie.”

“Forgive me.” Legolas purred, letting his long lashes flutter. He stopped the fight against his father’s hand and was, a little to Bard’s surprise, released momentarily. The startled man couldn’t distinguish anymore what was reality and what was part of their ‘special’ entertainment for him. It mattered little, the sight that followed took his breath away once again. With those words Legolas shifted his position until the head of his father’s cock brushed against his stretched opening.

Bard doubted that the elf was prepared properly, but Legolas did not seem to care at the slightest. With a sharp intake of breath he lowered his slender body until he had completely impaled himself. No whine, no whimper, not even a silent moan fell from his lips.

 _‘Such a pity I can’t see your face.’_ Bard thought to himself, studying the King’s approving expression instead. How one of his hand ran affectionately up and down his son’s spine when Legolas stilled his movements to get accustomed with the alien invasion. How his other hand wandered to the back of his son’s head to pull him into a sweet and loving kiss.

Bard’s eyes widened in amazement as he watched them and it was as the scales fell from his eyes. For the first time he saw the sheer endless love that existed between them, the equality within their relationship, just **_how_** much they cared for each other.

The realization was breathtaking and finally he understood the true meaning of Legolas’ words. There was nothing wrong in what they did. They did not cause any harm and fighting against mutual love now seemed indeed utterly wrong, even if the love was illicit. For Bard it was as if he fell under another spell, enchanted by their otherworldly beauty, by the sheer endless love that existed between them. Easily they could have kept their secret for the rest of their immortal lives, yet they have confided in him. And more: they allowed him to witness the most sinful act that possibly existed.

Bard could see Legolas’ hands wander from his father’s shoulders towards his face, returning the kiss with frantic passion and an insatiable need. Slowly, he began to move his body up and down, fighting back the remains of pain that rushed through him.

 _‘Oh my fair gods’_ Bard swallowed hard as he observed his lover’s thick cock disappear over and over again in the tight heat. He didn’t know where to let his gaze linger first. How they kissed as if it was the last day on earth? How Legolas fucked himself in a now steady rhythm? How his lover’s hands came to a comfortable rest on his son’s waist assisting him in what he did?

Never before had Bard been a voyeur, taking pleasure whilst others did the thing - not being involved at the slightest. It was odd and somehow, it still remained a mystery to him how on earth this just could be **_SO_** fucking arousing, Bard thought.

Apparently, all pain that Legolas had felt was now subsided by pleasure. The younger elf broke their searing kiss and let his head fall back in bliss, his long hair dancing over his buttocks. His movements became soon more frantic, pushing himself up until only the head of his father’s cock was still inside him before he sank all the way down again. Again and again, every motion accompanied by a string of endless moans and needy whimpers.

Bard stared in awe, mesmerized by the sinful display, by the flexing muscles of the elf’s thighs, by the dreamy expression in his lover’s shining eyes. Absently, he ached his back against the chair, stroking himself in the exact rhythm of Legolas’ movements until the first droplets of pre-cum leaked from his cock. He wouldn’t last long, but he did not care, loosing himself in their lovemaking.

“I love when you wear your crown whilst fucking me” he heard Legolas comment between heated kisses. His voice was hoarse, his breath hitching, his entire body quivering with need. There was nothing subtle, nothing veiled when even Bard was able to notice it.

“Such a pity that I will stop now, isn’t it?” Thranduil whispered against Legolas’ skin, loud enough for Bard to hear. “Enough of it.”

Legolas groaned in protest and answered something in elvish that Bard couldn’t understand, but the tone was enough to tell him that the elf was hardly amused.

“Since when do I care what **_you_** want?” Thranduil laughed, searching for the man’s eyes across the distance. “The sole reason for this was to fuck you open for our guest.” Bard froze in his seat upon his lover’s filthy words. “And thus you get off me. NOW. Or do I have to make you?” he added.

“No need for this.” Legolas breathed as he lifted his body from his father’s cock in a graceful motion. “Maybe HE knows how to treat and cherish such a precious gift.”

 _‘Like father, like son’_ Bard said to himself with a wondrous smile upon Legolas’ words. Both were indeed vain bastards, who else would call himself ‘a precious gift’?

Thranduil fought back a chuckle, but couldn’t refrain from slapping his son’s backside when he was finally on his feet.

“I assume you wish to fuck me properly.” Legolas stated with the most seductive smile he could muster when he came to stand in front of the startled man, adding in a disrespectful tone “not like him.” The snarky remark towards his father was accompanied by a glance in Thranduil’s direction.

“So please, follow me.” Legolas offered, his words nothing more than a breathed whisper when he offered his hand to Bard.

 


	7. Chapter 07

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard discovers some extravagancies in Thranduil's chambers - a private pool and a jewelled anal-plug among them ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me the delay in updating this fic but real life has become really stressful again. I hope you'll enjoy the following chapter.

**Chapter 07**

**~~**

Of course Bard wished to fuck the younger elf properly – he was long past a state where he actually could care about moral beliefs, even if it were his own. He was too deep into depravity already thanks to the wicked elves and with a smile he took the offered hand just before he rose from his chair.

“I’ve never fucked an elf before – but it can’t be so much different from fucking another male, could it?” he replied with smug smirk to Legolas’ comment which earned him an approving nod from his lover. Thranduil indeed approved – of everything that would happen this very night. It was thrilling and the thought alone entirely intoxicating; something stirred between his legs again.

 _‘Just wait dragonslayer – and you will see’_ Legolas mused to himself but his train of thoughts was interrupted by the King’s strong voice that suddenly filled the room.

“Good, very good indeed, King of Dale.” Thranduil spoke his praise aloud. “Fuck him hard, fuck him properly – fuck him as if it is the last thing on earth you will do. And know if you don’t do it – I will! And you will watch.”

Legolas licked his lips in anticipation and a visible shiver danced across his ivory skin. This was so much to his liking that he nearly jumped at the proposition. And maybe if he was overly lucky he could even bed the handsome dragon slayer – those rumors **_MUST_** be true! Of that, Legolas was still certain.

The man however gasped aloud by the sinful suggestion. By now he knew that the King’s son apparently preferred it rough between the sheets but somehow his mind still refused to process the obtained information; the elf looked so innocent, so astonishingly fragile - even more so in his nude state and Bard feared to crush the immortal being if he used just a little too much strength.

Could he really take what was his to have this very night? Rough and hard, pounding restlessly into the tight channel? Could he? Would he? In his mind the vivid image of how his cock would disappear over and over again in the wet heat already formed. It was awkward and arousing alike he had to admit a little ashamed – even the thought to watch again was.

“Aye, I will King of the Elves” he replied at last with a certain amusement in his voice. At least he would try to fulfill his lover’s request and the younger elf’s desire. His world and thoughts had been turned upside down ever since his arrival in his lover’s halls.

“Good.” Thranduil stated with another nod of approval. “Be certain that I won’t tolerate anything else.”

Would Bard have spoken his thoughts aloud mockery would have been certainly audibly in his words. _‘No of course not oh great king’_ he frowned inwardly and turned around to follow Legolas whose patience ran thin. “Come.” The younger elf urged as he squeezed the man’s hand with affection. Desire and wanton lust shone in those blue eyes and the elf did not even try to hide it. He wished somebody would fuck him already.

They hurried through another chamber and from there a spacious and seemingly endless corridor led away from the main rooms deep into the caverns, the walls illuminated by flickering torches and countless candles.

Bard adsorbed his surroundings, letting his eyes wander over the delicately ornamented torch-holders and massive candlesticks graced with leaves of fresh ivy and spring flowers. Of course just EVERYTHING seemed extraordinarily costly – and rare. Truly suited for royalty. For Bard who has lived long years at the edge of poverty it was breathtaking and extravagant alike. Even unreal at times. Yet it was impossible to avert his eyes from all the beauty that surrounded him all of a sudden and he felt foolish for having assumed anything else from Mirkwood’s King.

When they finally reached the end of the corridor another small room was directly connected to it and from there they tumbled into a spacious chamber that was completely different from the other rooms he had seen. Instead of wood or silken carpets, marble tiles were used as flooring. Bard automatically followed Legolas’ movements and came to a sudden halt, absorbing the insanity that lay before him: A pool, glooming in the most beautiful shades of green and turquoise, candles of the same color framing its edges! In the middle of the Realm beneath the stone, in the King’s private chambers – a private pool!

It was simply ridiculous! Bard said to himself, his eyes wide, his mouth stood open as his mind tried to process the sight.

“A natural pool.” he heard Thranduil comment in the distance. Certainly Mirkwood’s King was watching him with a smile playing across his lips. “It is fed by a hot spring and a little waterfall that runs right through it. The water is always pleasantly warm and it is probably the most enjoyable amenities my rooms have to offer.” He added as if he wished to justify the extravagance towards his mortal lover.

Bard as a man of the lake, grown up at the shores with water surrounding him day and night could easily believe that. In contrast to the natural spring the lake had been always cold; he had jumped in nevertheless. No matter if it was hot or cold – Bard could never resist a good swim.

“And a luxury I greatly enjoy after a heated night – or in-between.” The King added in a low voice that elicited a shiver on Legolas who was instantly reminded off something they had done recently.

“Of course.” Bard said, biting his tongue not to chuckle. “Would you allow me one question, King of these halls?”

A quizzical look hushed over the Elvenking’s face as he was wondering where the formality came from all of a sudden, but he nodded. “Of course you may.”

“Thank you.” Bard said in a calm voice, bending his head a little to hide his mischief. “Well - how does this Kingdom endure when the King’s sole interest is apparently fucking like the rabbits in his woods?”

Legolas burst out into roaring laughter, slapping his thighs with his hands. “Oh my!” the younger elf giggled helplessly. “Oh my – PERFECT. Oh my by the Valar! The best comment I have EVER heard. Ada, I’ve wondered about this, too.”

A little to Bard’s surprise, the King soon joined his son in the fit of giggles until tears filled his eyes. “Do you need some advice **_KING_** of Dale – do you wish for more time for the sweet things of life?” Ruling was ever tiresome and exhausting – and often it was a heavy burden, too. It always had been like this but over the years Thranduil had come to terms with it. But still he tried to coordinate and delegate as much (useless) work to his advisors and captains as possible. “I would understand it – ruling can be tiresome as hell, especially if such a beautiful but useless distraction is called your heir.” The snarky remark was answered in another fit of giggles.

“At least you think me beautiful, Ada.” Legolas managed to choke out.

When the giggling had finally ceased, the elf tipped Bard who still was facing Thranduil onto the shoulder to regain his attention.

“Yes Legolas?” the man asked with a certain amount of curiosity, but the elf only pointed towards the opposite wall. From what apparently was the Elves’ bathroom two identical wooden doors, each beautifully ornamented with a massive antler and tiny leaves, led away.

“And now?” Bard was at a loss – he had no idea where these doors led, which room was supposed to be the bedroom. The fact that two identical ‘bedrooms’ lay behind – varying only in its furniture and even more in their ‘equipment’ was another detail the man could never know.

In truth, none of them was Thranduil’s actual bedchamber which lay behind another door that was hidden from Bard’s eyes. Those room were meant for amusement only and had been installed many centuries ago, mainly on Legolas’ demand whose naughtiness knew no boundaries.

“The choice is yours.” Thranduil whispered right into his ear when he came to stand behind him, placing small kisses onto his neck, his jaw and ears.

Bard turned around again to meet his lover’s eyes, a quizzical look on his face. Before he could speak a word, the elf’s hand was between his legs, groping his erection through the fabric. “Choose wisely.” Thranduil breathed, bringing his other hand to the back of Bard’s head and shifting his lips until they were only inches away from Bard’s own.

Every motion was accompanied by a jealous gaze – all of a sudden Legolas seemed completely excluded. A fact which was not to the younger elf’s liking, especially not in his wanton need.

In the meanwhile, Bard was still lost. How on earth should he decide, not knowing where those fucking doors lead? The breathtaking kiss was without doubt pleasant but no answer to the riddle.

“The right one!” Bard answered at last when his mouth was released. Was it right or wrong, he did not know – but no help could be expected from those damn elves.

 _‘Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes’_ – this had been a common saying in Lake Town, and finally Bard knew the very reason why.

They were truly an unsolvable mystery. Naughty, wicked, annoying as fuck!

A look of disappointment hushed over Legolas’ face but it went unseen by the man who still stood with his back towards him.

“As you wish.” The younger elf commented, fighting back the disappointment from his voice. Today (for once) it was not about himself and the fulfillment of his own perversions and in secret Legolas had to admit that the right door was indeed the right choice for their shared night.

It was quite possible that all the little details were breathtaking enough for his father’s lover; a mischievous smile graced his lips as he vividly imagined Bard’s reaction towards all those extravagancies which could be found inside. Some were visible right away, others were hidden beneath the bed and heavy curtains.

Bard turned around as soon as the elf’s soft voice dance through the room, the words almost swallowed by the heavy stone walls.

They undid him – their voices, their eyes, and their entire appearance which was so alike that it was maddening.

 

**~~**

A slender hand began to turn the handle down and slowly, with a crooking noise, the door swung open and revealed another specious room. The sweet scent of bees-wax soon tickled Bard’s nose as numerous candles painted the King’s sleeping room into soft orange-golden shades.

“Beautiful.” He commented absently, stepping towards the entrance. Almost carefully, Bard followed the naked elf inside, his eyes travelling along his lithe figure, down his spine, over his perfectly shaped buttocks, over his slender legs. But soon his eyes were distracted by the massive four-poster bed in the middle of the room that could easily accommodate all of them, if not more.

The headboard was ornamented with the same intricate patterns that had caught his eyes previously on the heavy doors; but what startled him most were the holes at each side of the wooden columns that framed the bed.

Again it was as if the elves could read his very mind. “Nothing in here is there coincidentally” Legolas breathed seductively, yet he doubted that Bard had any idea for their true existence. “Everything serves a purpose.”

Yet most of the treasures which Legolas so much cherished were hidden; those delicately ornamented plugs in various sizes, the whips that have left the most wonderful marks on his perfect skin, the silken ribbons and silvery chains, oils that burned like hell against his delicate skin. The mere thought made him shudder, licking his lips in pure desire – yet possibly he would have none of it this very night.

And the younger elf was right; questioningly Bard turned around and searched for his lover’s eyes but Thranduil remained silent. He still leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his naked chest – simply nodding.

When he turned back towards the King’s son, the elf hold something that distantly reminded him of handcuffs he had seen at the Master’s guards in his hands. But those cuffs were extended with metal chains that perfectly fitted through the holes on all four bedposts. With a genuine smile Legolas began to explain: “Those are the missing pieces, King of Dale. It’s something which can be greatly enjoyable – and highly frustrating alike.”

“And at times even necessary.” Thranduil added as he finally stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Nobody would ever dare to wander so far into his chambers that there was no real reason to lock the door – he did it nevertheless, partly to distract the poor man further. “Is it not my little prince?” he added, his voice ringing with amusement. He knew all too well just how much his son hated to be addresses as such – the very reason why he had done so. At times, Legolas could grow extremely impatient, especially if something did not exactly go how he had imagined it in his wicked mind. This impatience had often resulted in rather violent actions; something his father had disapproved ever since.

Legolas simply showed him his middle finger, which only resulted in a laugh from his father.

“See Bard – he cannot behave.” It was the very reason why he loved his son more than words could ever tell.

“Fuck you!” Legolas sneered, shooting a glance of annoyance across the room. “I love you too my dear.” His father whispered – and it was nothing but the truth he spoke.

It had taken many months until they had finally accepted their forbidden feelings for each other, each of them plagued by guilt and fear in the meanwhile. What they felt, what they desired in the dark hours of the night was condemn, frowned upon their kin. And they have violently fought against their love, tried to erase those illicit longings. But no matter what they have done, how hard they have tried - it only made their desire grow until both felt as if their heart would scatter.

What had begun as rather ‘innocent’ wooing, gentle kisses and touches had soon developed into a searing and passionate love. Thranduil had never spoken aloud about his rather uncommon preferences between the sheets – he had never wished to trick his young son into it, afraid to corrupt his mind with his wicked fantasies. At one point Legolas simply had found it out himself – how exactly had remained his mystery for a very long time. Something the younger elf always denied to confess, no matter how much he loved his own father, no matter how hard Thranduil pushed the matter. For long weeks Thranduil had refused to fulfill his young son’s request, still afraid to corrupt his mind. With reluctance he had finally given in to Legolas’ repeated pleas to try something new one night – after certain goblets of wine to which his son had added some brandy in secret.

That was how everything started, how their relationship evolved on a level of desire for which no words were made. Never before has anybody submitted so willingly, so naturally to him – that it was his own son added only to their mutual excitement. There had been many occasions where Mirkwood’s King thought they were born to cherish each other, to love each other until the end of days – after long years of solitude he had finally found his soul mate where he had last expected it.

In the meanwhile Bard’s eyes wandered over the emerald sheets that were made out of the finest fabrics, along the stone walls which were – a little to his surprise – not decorated at all. Bard didn’t not know what exactly he had expected to find there but for some reason he had imagined lavish art, ornamented details of elvendom. Nothing of it could be seen - apart from a heavy curtain opposite from where he stood and the bed the room seemed to be empty

“I haven’t expected a window.” Bard commented absently to himself.

“And you were right to do so.” Thranduil said from behind him. “I do not have any use for it in my sleeping room.” The fact that it was not his ordinary sleeping room still wasn’t voiced. For the elves it did not matter if Bard knew or not as it did not make any difference. The night was devoted to pleasure and bliss and definitely not made for sleeping. “It is a mirror that is veiled by the curtains, no window.”

“A mirror?!” Bard asked in astonishment, looking at his lover over his shoulder. Puzzlement and disbelief was visible on his handsome face.

“Certainly – it is such a pity when you can’t see your lover’s face in your favorite position, don’t you agree?” Thranduil commented nonchalantly and with a radiant smile. Within seconds, Legolas removed the heavy curtain and revealed the massive mirror that almost occupied the entire wall.

Aye, Bard indeed had to agree to some point. It was a pity but there were at least ten positions in which one could face his lover. Putting a head-high mirror right into the bedchamber seemed just like another extravagance of those wicked elves. Every time Bard thought he couldn’t be surprised further he was mistaken.

As if to demonstrate its true purpose, the younger elf crawled seductively onto the bed presenting his still stretched entrance shamelessly. Bard swallowed hard – the King’s son on all fours was temptation incarnated and his own cock was throbbing violently against the restricting garments.

Strong arms encircled Bard’s waist and Thranduil’s lips were brushing against his heated skin. “All manners, pride and dignity forgotten.” He commented softly, the words dancing along his skin even if they were never meant for him.

“Hasn’t it been you who has taken both from me, erased them never to return?” Legolas replied, looking right over his shoulder with the most innocent expression he could muster. Oh he just wished that somebody would fuck him already.

“As far as I remember you have never complained before, Legolas. But still – get off the bed. NOW.” Thranduil said in a voice that left no room for disobedience. “Let me remind you that not everything is about you, especially not tonight.”

And Legolas knew his place - with a swift movement the elf was on his feet again, standing right before Bard whose eyes switched between Thranduil’s reflection in the mirror and Legolas.

“We can play it safe – or play it cool.” he heard Legolas’ whisper right into his ear, fierce passion audibly in his voice. His lips were almost touching the thin and sensitive skin; without even noticing it, Bard’s mouth parted. The dance of breath in combination with those wicked words made the man shiver; it could only be another perversion of the elf’s naughty mind.

A little to his shame Bard had to admit that he had truly enjoyed every single wickedness they came up with so far; and curiosity sparked once more. His defenses fell, disappearing with the soft breath that danced across his skin.

 _‘I hate you all’_ – he said weakly to himself. It was a blatant lie, Bard didn’t hate but desired them.

He, they undid him in the most wicked way possible and within the blink of an eye, Legolas’ hands were fidgeting with the lacings of his trousers. And not a moment later he was stripped naked, the garment pooling around his ankles. Bard gasped in anticipation only to be silenced with a passionate kiss that was all teeth and tongue.

Delicate fingers ran along his length in the most wonderful way possible. Legolas truly had a natural gift with his hands, his mouth and tongue. But after all, he had centuries of practice Bard mused to himself. Thranduil would definitely not tolerate anything else than perfection – with no-one last with his own son.

“I wonder how your virgin channel feels around my fingers” the elf breathed as his finger ran up and down the man’s cleft.

“I am no virgin!” Bard stated in determination. Maybe Legolas had forgotten that his father has bedded him some months past – more than once. He hadn’t even been untouched back then.

“Of course you are.” The younger elf laughed, letting his finger slip a little bit further between Bard’s muscular cheeks.

“No!” Bard muttered in protest. Was this another game Legolas had decided to play with him? Was it a test? To be honest he had not the slightest idea what it truly was. Most likely he would find it out all too soon.

A little to his surprise, Mirkwood’s King who suddenly stood behind him joined the conversation “Have you ever had a threesome before?” he asked in the most wondrous tone of innocence. Thranduil was all but innocent and Bard had to bite back a chuckle.

Legolas continued without awaiting a reply from the startled man, letting his fingertips dance across his hairy chest. “Have you ever enjoyed yourself so much that you couldn’t walk for days, nor sit or ride?”

When Thranduil had fucked him in the kingly tent some months ago the elf had left behind a pleasant memory; nothing more – Bard could easily sit and ride for hours afterwards. “No – but…” he tried to cut the conversation off, but failed utterly.

“Have you ever been tied up in the sweetest way possible?” his lover whispered seductively into his ear, licking along the curve of it until Bard shivered.

“Have you swallowed another’s cock so much that you have lost consciousness?” The younger elf inquired, squeezing and twisting Bard’s nipples rather firmly. The times it had happened to himself were countless by now – it was another thrilling addition to their repertoire of perversions.

“Of course not!” Bard hissed in slight annoyance. This was becoming truly insane and wicked. Who on earth would willingly do such vile things? Bard questioned himself but his train of thoughts was interrupted when Legolas raised his sweet voice again.

“Have you ever felt the intoxicating emotions of pain and lust mingling in your hazed mind?” he inquired, his lips now nibbling against the stubble skin of the man’s throat. “Felt the searing heat of a whip against your skin, followed by the soft touch of feathers?”

Legolas lips were pressed against his own, the elf’s tongue demanding entrance. The words, the rosy lips made Bard’s mind spin and almost automatically he yielded to the silent request.

“Have you ever commanded pleasure?” his lover was asking, whilst his arms sneaked between Bard and Legolas.

Bard remained quiet, unwilling to break the searing kiss he exchanged with the King’s son. His eyes were closed and his stomach fluttered upon the dual assault.

“See – you are innocent as a blushing maid.” Legolas whispered against his lips between kisses. “Have you ever…”

But Legolas’ words were cut off by the man who finally lost patience with his lover’s son. “For fuck’s sake – no I haven’t!” Bard hissed at last, struggling free against the hold both had on him. “I am not such a pervert like you. Both of you!”

“Not yet, not yet.” Thranduil replied with a husky laugh. Everything was exactly how he had imagined it to be; Bard possibly had never done any of those things, maybe not even thought about them - but with every words that fell from the elves lips his dark eyes sparkled, and Thranduil saw curiosity hush through them.

A knowing smile graced the kingly face for the flicker of a moment, before he addressed his son again. “I fear our guest does not enjoy being fucked unprepared – so please be so kind and lighten my workload.” He demanded with a certain amount of impatience.

“As you wish my King, my love, my father.” Legolas breathed with a smile, stepping a little away from Bard and bowed before his parent.

Gentle hands touched Bard’s shoulders and Legolas took a step forward, leaving him no other possibility than to follow.

“Please make yourself comfortable.” He said to Bard with a laugh the moment before he pushed him onto the bed with a strength the other had not even imagined to be present.

The puzzled expression which certainly must have graced his face when he fell elicited a hearty laugh from both elves and he only shook his head against the sheets. Only seconds later, his legs were parted by soft hands and a trail of kisses made his vision blur. Tantalizingly slow, Legolas’ lips wandered across his chest and abdomen, further down his erection and his balls until silent moans escaped Bard’s mouth. “Oh gods.” He panted when the elf’s tongue ran along his sacs repeatedly just before Legolas parted the man’s legs even further with a knowing smile.

Bard rose his head and eyed the elf whose head distinctly wandered lower suspiciously. His stare of disbelief accompanied by a beautiful blush did not go unnoticed by the King’s wicked son.

“As I have said – a virgin.” Legolas remarked with a chuckle. He simply couldn’t stop teasing his father’s lover. “So apparently you haven’t done anything alike, either? I have thought as much. Believe me – it is the most pleasant way to get you ready for my father’s cock.”

Bard only rolled his eyes. It was futile to argue with those damn elves and if he was honest he did not even wish to, being entirely intrigued by mere idea of what Legolas was about to do. Within the blink of an eye his legs rested on the elf’s shoulders whilst those perfect hands parted his cheeks. He had lost – again. Just like so many times in the past hours.

The moment Legolas’ tongue trailed along his cleft Bard swallowed hard and his eyes fell shut to savior every nuance of the divine feeling. Aye, he had never experienced anything alike - not even once even thought about it. But the man of the lake had always been one to experiment, one whose curiosity was easily sparked. In regard to his own sexuality it was not any different and his internal battle was long lost anyways. He was needy, he was wanton – Bard did not care anymore whom he fucked and who would fuck him.

Before he even noticed it, the words were out. “Bring it on then, elf.” He remarked, his voice hoarse.

For a second, Legolas’ eyes widened before his lips curled into a radiant smile. “With pleasure, King of Dale.” The nod of approval of his father was reflected by the mirror and Legolas’ smile only grew. He would never tire of his father’s praise.

An audible gasp left the man’s lips when Legolas’ tongue encircled his entrance, leaving a wet trail behind. In the meantime, the elf’s soft hands wandered up and down Bard’s already hard erection and he was at a loss once again. And this was only the beginning. Excitement rushed through his veins and he would willingly yield to everything his lover’s son desired to do with him. No matter what wickedness would await him.

“Oh by the gods, this is divine!” the man panted, his breath hitching, his voice heavy with arousal. He moaned and whined under Legolas’ continuous ministrations; the elf’s tongue pushing in and out into his entrance repeatedly until Bard thought he couldn’t take anymore. His eyes had long fallen close, in contrast to the elf who continuously watched his own reflection in the mirror. He was not preparing him gently, he was actually fucking him with his tongue. Bard was vocal – very vocal. Still no comparison to himself, but so much louder than his father would ever be. A fact that thrilled him, aroused him beyond measure even if he was on the passive side.

Bard’s mind was absent, caught in the blissful haze of passion. He had almost forgotten that it was not only him and the king’s son in the chamber – until strong hands lifted his shoulders.

“I do not like to be excluded.” Thranduil breathed into his ear when he made himself comfortable on the bed. He couldn’t tell when exactly the elf had taken off his remaining clothes but it mattered not. Soon his head was resting in Thranduil’s lap and now two pairs of identical hands were running over his heated skin, cherishing him until he panted their names alternatingly.

“Oh fuck.” It escaped him when Legolas exchanged his tongue against a slick finger, but he was immediately silenced with a kiss. “Shut up, will you?” Thranduil mumbled against his lips between kissed. He had no other choice than to obey his lover’s request. And he did not even want to.

Bard couldn’t tell up from down any longer, being kissed by Mirkwood’s King as if it was their last day on earth, being worked open by his son’s wicked tongue. It was the height of depravity – but never has he cared less about anything.

Actually, he thought he could come from this alone; the elves’ hands were everywhere. Brushing against his weeping cock, groping his buttocks firmly, caressing his throat in feathery touches – every motion accompanied by the steady rhythm of Legolas’ tongue darting into his stretched hole.

Bard ached his back against the silken sheets, tossed and turned against Thranduil’s hands who kept him firmly in place. “No.” the elf breathed with a charming smirk before he began to explore the man’s mouth again. His mouth finally closed around Bard’s and within a second his tongue was pushed deeply inside, making the man writhe again beneath him. But the struggle was futile. Bard was not able to move a single inch as both his shoulders and hips were hold down. All he could do was to moan helplessly against the elf’s lips that eagerly swallowed every sound he made. Without even noticing it, he brought his own arms behind his head, catching his lover’s waist in the throes of passion, scratching along the ivory skin. Thranduil did not mind the fierce display of passion even if he had to admit that it hurt – at least a little.

They undid him, drove him mad with desire and wanton lust and Bard would have screamed his need aloud if he wouldn’t have been silenced in the most pleasant way possible.

With one of his hands Legolas began to rummage beneath the bed until his fingertips brushed against a wooden casket that was hidden there ever since. Only then he stopped his ministrations entirely, an action which was instantly followed by an annoyed groan from Bard’s lips and the opening of his lust-darkened eyes.

“Pardon me.” Legolas offered with a beaming smile on his lips and curiosity in his eyes. “But I am searching for something of utter importance.” The man had no idea what exactly has picked the elf’s interest but he was easily intrigued.

“Oh perfect.” Legolas squeaked in delight as he opened the heavy lid of the box that was no resting between his legs. The treacherous rustling of metal against metal could be heard but the exact content was shielded from Bard’s view. However, Thranduil’s knowing smile told him that only another wickedness awaited him. Of course – what else could it?

In fact it could be literally everything, given the naughty preferences Mirkwood’s royal family had; hand-cuffs, iron chains and worse. Bard began to tremble – he was curious and a little afraid at the same time. But as ever, curiosity won.

Slowly Bard lifted his upper body to see what Legolas was searching for; still he couldn’t see inside the casket but the joyful expression on the younger elf’s face was compensation enough.

“LOOK.” Legolas squeaked like a child who received a new toy, holding up a silvery anal plug that was relatively slim at one end and incredibly broad at the other. And if this was not enough already the seven rings that announced an increase in size were made out of sparkling gems in delicately carved settings. Bard’s eyes widened in pure astonishment – never before has he seen something alike, not nearly.

“Oh shit.” He stated as his eyes wandered along the plug from one jeweled ring to the other. Actually the gems were arranged in the colors of the rainbows; the first ring was made out of amethysts, followed by sparkling sapphires and topaz for a lighter shade of blue. But it was the last ring that hold his gaze. That made his eyes grow wide. Stones as red as freshly spilled blood, each of them as big as the tip of his thumb. He swallowed hard – there was no way he, ANY man or elf, could take such inside.

“Is it not to your liking, King of Dale?” Legolas asked with a little disappointment swinging in his words. “We have others.” In fact, the entire casket was filled with plugs of different sizes and shapes, made out of different materials – iron, wood and gold among them, ornamented or not.

“Nay – it’s just…” Bard replied, pondering his thoughts what to answer. “This must be worth a fortune.”

“Ten times the amount my circlet costs.” Thranduil pointed out matter-of-factly. Until now, Bard had not even noticed that the King still wore the silvery crown – and nothing else. Somehow it was an odd sight he presented and he couldn’t recall that he had worn it back then in the ruins of Dale.

“Oh I can take it off if you find it intimidating.” The Elvenking offered, interpreting the puzzled stare of his lover. “I am so accustomed to wear it as it is my little queen’s weakness. Mirkwood’s stern and icy King fucking his helpless son into oblivion – isn’t it your favorite fantasy, Legolas?”

“Aye it indeed is.” The younger elf admitted shamelessly, a visible shudder running through him. He could NEVER get enough of it and they have played this fantasy in at least a hundred variations by now.

Bard shook his head once more, his eyes switching from Legolas who was still on his knees before him and his lover back and forth. “Oh are you implying that I should have brought my crown on this visit if it is such a turn-on for you?” he inquired with a hearty laugh meeting Legolas’ blue eyes.

“Nay.” Legolas replied in an instant with a dismissive gesture of his hand. “Being fucked by an actually dragon slayer is more than sufficient.”

“Oh thank the gods.” Bard laughed – wearing a crown whilst fucking simply seemed insane. “It must be extremely uncomfortable.” And there it was again – the foolish tale of bedding a dragon slayer. Certainly it would haunt him as long as he lived, each time when he would visit Mirkwood on official business the rumors would start again. Bard had never taken a fancy towards the immortal race of Elves and now it seemed he could easily have them all. Truth to be told he still found it ridiculous and for a moment his mind was absent, thinking about the gossiping elves he had met earlier this day.

That Legolas had coated his hands and fingers with scented oil as well as the plug in the meanwhile went entirely unnoticed by Bard. Until an oiled finger was pushed deep inside his semi-stretched channel.

“You could have warned me!” he muttered in weak protest, raising an eyebrow.

“Aye he could have.” Thranduil spoke instead of his son. “But it would have been only half the fun.”

“Bastards.” He said, meeting his lover’s twinkling eyes.

A gentle fingertip ran from his ear along his jawline until it stopped on his chin, lifting his face just a little. Stern eyes looked down at him, yet still they sparkled with mischief. “What exactly tells you that you can insult me, us in such a manner, Bard of Laketown?” Thranduil whispered in voice that was cold as the icy guts of winter. Wouldn’t it have been for the elf’s expression, he wouldn’t have said those words that spilled so freely from his mouth.

“The shameless desire you harbor for myself.” Bard stated with a naughty smirk still not averting his gaze. “Your eyes betray you, King of the Elves. You want me. You desire to fuck me. Please tell me if I am mistaken.”

Of course he was not mistaken. “Vain bastard.” Thranduil laughed in amusement and affection. Indeed he was forever grateful that Bard spoke so freely around him ever since they have met – there were enough yes-Sayers around him. He had no need for another.

When Legolas removed his slender finger from his entrance, Bard suddenly felt empty and quivered at the loss of touch. But it was only for a brief moment; soon the warm digit was replaced by the cool tip of the plug that circled around his ring of muscles.

“Be careful.” The king reminded his heir in an admonishing tone. “Not everybody has such revolting fantasies as you have.”

“I will, father.” Legolas whispered before he placed tiny kisses along the man’s erection, letting his lips continue their journey over his balls and cleft until Bard visibly relaxed. Only then he resumed his actions and pushed a little more of the plug beyond the ring of muscles. Involuntarily, Bard gasped and squirmed. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but it was not pleasant either. But it was always like it at the beginning he tried to remind himself.

“Relax my love.” Thranduil whispered, his warm breath dancing along the wet trails that countless kisses have left behind on his throat. No matter how harsh the King spoke with his son, how violently they treated each other; towards him Thranduil was the most gentle and attentive lover one could ever wish for. Those two sides of the Elvenking were beyond intriguing the man had to admit.

Bard shuddered, even squirmed against Thranduil’s legs when the first ring of the silvery plug breached his entrance. Even if he wasn’t a virgin in such matters it had been some months when he had last enjoyed such pleasantries – with Mirkwood’s King in the ruins of Dale.

“Oh Valar.” Legolas commented with wide eyes. “I could easily get jealous.”

“Why?” Bard inquired with a certain puzzlement.

“Because **_I_** am going to fuck your tight arse and not he.” Thranduil explained with indifference. “Such a pity is it not, Legolas?”

Of course – what else could it have been Bard thought to himself and rolled his eyes behind closed lids. The furious glance Legolas gave his father went unnoticed and apart from this he remained quiet. Arguing against his Sire’s will was futile – Legolas had learned it many centuries ago.

With uttermost care the elf resumed his actions and began to push the plug deeper inside Bard’s slippery channel until the second ring of jewels brushed against the clenching ring of muscles. As if he knew what was about to come, Bard inhaled sharply and bit his lower lip. Once more fear and anticipation mingled in his mind.

“Breathe – and relax.” His lover was whispering into his ear the moment Legolas pressed it past his entrance.

“OH FUCK. I can’t. I … Oh..” The man mumbled words of incoherence, writhing against the silken sheets. His body fighting against the alien invasion, but Legolas’ slender fingers kept the plug firmly in place. Some of the haziness in his mind cleared upon the brief pain that rushed through his body and his eyes opened.

“Relax and breathe.” Thranduil repeated once more, brushing with his fingertips against his cheeks in loving affection. “I wish I could ease the discomfort you feel, but I fear I cannot.”

A warm smile graced his lips, his eyes gloomed in the dim light – the sight of the beautiful elf made worth all the pain.

“Kiss me” Bard mumbled – and Thranduil obliged in an instant.

Soon, the discomfort was erased by pleasure again when Legolas began to fuck him with the metal plug, never farther than the man had already taken it inside. Simultaneously, the other bent down his head to meet his lips for a searing kiss – over and over again. The double assault was breathtaking, made his mind swirl until he was a quivering and needy mess.

Oh by the gods he was so ready – so desperately wanted that he almost begged to be taken already.

When the third ring of jewels was pushed past his ring of muscles, his entire body jerked uncontrollably.

“Shhhhh.” Legolas’ commented in a soothing voice, stroking his cock with soft touches. “Tell me how it feels, Bard.”

Bard closed his eyes again. How did it actually feel? Of this, he was not entirely certain. Aye, there was discomfort, the awkward feeling of being filled, but the cold metal against his heated entrance felt divine at the same time.

It was madness – the ornamented plug was worth a fortune. More he had ever possessed in his life – and three of the gem-adorned rings were already inside him. The most beautiful beings he had ever laid his eyes upon cherishing his body in the most wonderful way possible. “It feels as if it is burning me up from the inside out.” Bard replied in a shaking voice. “In the most positive way.”

“Good. I feared you would despise our splendid extravagances.” The King commented in an innocent tone that was not innocent at all. Nothing – absolutely nothing about the proud Elfking was innocent!

“Oh no, King of the Elves.” Bard answered with a husky laugh, meeting Thranduil’s gaze over Legolas’ shoulder. “It seems as if I slowly get accustomed to the splendor your realm has the offer; and it would be a shame to waste it, wouldn’t it?” There was a mischievous twinkle in the mortal’s eyes which was extremely to the elf’s liking. Nothing was more uninteresting than a lover who did not voice his desires, speak his dreams aloud. Who would lie emotionless beneath him. No – the man’s sass was one thing he had immediately fallen for; and it was not any different right now. Until then, Thranduil had fought back his own desire but with the sight his lover presented it made it impossible to ignore any longer.

With a fluid movement he removed his body behind the man and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Bard’s eyes followed him, travelling up and down the perfect body as Legolas resumed to fuck him with the plug. Mirkwood’s King – caressed by the soft nuances of gold and orange was a breathtaking sight, being so much more beautiful than he already was.

“The only thing I’ll waste, undo tonight, is you, King of Dale.” He stated with the same husky laugh and the same twinkle in his shining eyes when he came to stand behind his son.

Oh yes – Thranduil could already vividly imagine the debauched image of his lover after a night spent in passion and sin. Until all three would sink into the peaceful slumber of post-orgasmic haze. It was everything he had ever wanted, even if he had never realized it. At least not until Legolas had brought up the topic a day ago and even then he was plagued by disbelief and reluctance.

For seconds, Legolas hated his father – once again.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the one who would be completely wasted by the end of the night? Wasn’t he the one who never could resist the King’s divine hands, who came undone by his look alone?

And now he so willingly offered it to another?

A sudden spark of jealousy arose in the younger elf – it was ridiculous and entirely inappropriate Legolas knew as much. But he couldn’t help his feelings.

“You’re old, Ada and I fear for your heart; do not overdue it.” he said icily not bothering to turn around to at least meet his father’s eyes.

The snarky remark was met with silence; the only answer he obtained was a fierce slap across his buttocks that made him nearly jump in pain and surprise.

“OUCH.” He screamed and turned simultaneously around, shooting a deadly glare into Thranduil’s directions.

“Know you place, you insolent brat.” The King said in the same icy tone. “And now would you please have the courtesy to resume your actions? My patience runs thin this night.”

“So does mine.” Bard threw in which earned him two identical stares of astonishment and approval.

The board was finally set – and neither of the three could wait any longer.

 

**~~**


	8. Chapter 08

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well - Thranduil, Leggles and Bard finally enjoy their time between the sheets - 15k of smut, deepthroat and dirty talk :)

**Chapter 08 – All night long**

**~~~**

Has he truly said those words aloud? Bard questioned himself, but given the intense stare the elves gave him apparently he had. A sigh escaped his lips and for a brief moment he allowed his eyes to fall shut in a futile attempt to sort his thoughts and emotions. Thranduil’s face appeared unbidden in his mind as soon as darkness occupied his vision.

Silence still hung between them, yet he could clearly hear their voice, their naughty laughs, see their perfect hands explore the other. It was maddening and Bard had no explanation if this was another trick the Elvenking had decided to play upon his expenses of if it was his own corrupted mind.

Bard inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of bees-wax and otherworldly aromas which he couldn’t distinguish. Another sigh and he opened his eyes again; still they were staring at him as if they have seen a mortal man for the first time in their life.

“Oh by the gods.” Bard muttered, finally breaking the silence that hung between them heavy like the smell of the scented candles that burned in every corner of the room. Absently he furrowed his brow, but the elves only answered with the sweetest smile that was available, something that nearly made him lose his patience. They were shamelessly and obviously toying with him. “There’s no reason to stare at me! Do you both truly think this – ALL of the displayed wickedness – does leave me unaffected?”

Of course those vain bastards would never think something alike, being entirely certain WHAT effect their behavior and fair appearance had on others, the sinful spell they have woven around him ever since he had set a foot into those elaborate halls.

The confirmation came instantly.

“No.” replied Thranduil with the most beautiful smile Bard had ever seen on the Elvenking’s lips, his slender fingers brushing against his lover’s cheekbones ever so lightly until goose-flesh spread along his arms, and neck. The ghostly touch and their proximity was enough to make the man tremble as the elf carefully took a step towards him.

“Indeed I have wondered when exactly your composure would falter.” Thranduil remarked before he placed a kiss onto his lover’s lips, claiming the already bruised lips fully. The kiss was slow but oddly passionate, the elf’s tongue delicately probing against his lips. Tasting him, making him moan, making him forget his moralities and the world around them.

Thranduil’s eyes were almost closed yet he kept watching his mortal lover closely, smiling as the man’s eyes darkened further. Oh he would devour his lips, his body, his very mind until Bard would sink down into his arms. Exhausted and utterly wasted, unable to ride and walk for days but completely sated and content – unable to leave the royal chambers (after all, various naughty ideas still occupied the Elvenking’s mind).

“You lasted longer than I have ever expected.” Legolas added rather annoyed when it seemed as neither of them wished to pull apart to fill their lungs again. If he hated anything on earth it was to be excluded from whatever his father did – he had initiated this! He wished to profit from it. In his corrupted mind, Bard was his precious reward. The famous dragonslayer!

Bard mumbled something under his breath that certainly contained the snippets _‘brat’_ and _‘bastard’_. Like all elves they – actually the heir more than the king himself, unnerved him; though on a completely different level as the other wood elves. He’d been always slightly intimidated by their otherworldly and feminine appearance, their awkward behavior, the looks, the words they use – but this was indescribable.

“Legolas...” The King admonished and a little to the man’s surprise the Prince flinched visibly. Where the words he had spoken towards his mortal lover had been gentle, affectionate even Thranduil’s voice now was all deadly calm and commanding. “I have told you more than once: do not meddle in my affairs – and behave. And apart from that: not everything is about YOU, especially not this very night. You will do whatever I – he – **_WE_** desire and ask of you and if I remember correctly you have heard our honored guests’ wish – what are you waiting for, my precious leaf? If I remember correctly you know the consequences of disobeying a king’s command all too well… Or shall I remind you what other _‘splendid extravagancies’_ can be found deep down in my dungeons?”

The Elvenking’s words danced through the room like the icy guts of winter that howled through the ruins of Dale after the final battle. Cold and deadly, making the inhabitants shudder upon the mere existence.

Legolas swallowed hard – rarely, not more than five times they have paid the said dungeon a visit as their private chambers were most of the time far more than sufficient for their desires.

“No.” was all the younger elf said, but to some extend Bard’s sick curiosity was sparked. Dungeons? Special extravagancies? No – they could hardly mean it, could they? By now he should already know that nothing was impossible in the vast halls of the Woodland Realm.

“Good then.” Thranduil stated with indifference. “Defy us and I will make certain that you won’t forget this very night as long as you live. Take your due place.” The King demanded in a voice that left no room for disobedience. The words assisted by a dismissive gesture towards the bed and a shudder ran down Bard’s spine.

Thranduil’s voice was used to give commands, the man himself had heard him during the battle of the five armies – a voice that could, would move legions! But this wasn’t a battlefield nor was his son his worst enemy. In fact, Bard still found these special endearments hardly appropriate for such an intimidate setting and he couldn’t tell what was part of their special game and what was not nor who was toying with whom this very moment.

Legolas muttered something under his breath that Bard couldn’t understand, possibly some elvish curses as his father arched an eyebrow at him as if he was about to ask _‘Seriously, Legolas?’_ but apart from that the King remained quiet.

Apparently it was enough as the cursing stopped abruptly.

“As only you can command me – my king – my sire – my beloved.” Stated Legolas with a dramatic pause in-between and bowed politely before his Sire. Was it honest, or was it mockery Bard couldn’t fully distinguish as the smug smirk was carefully hidden beneath a veil of golden hair.

“No. As only **_WE_** can command you.” Thranduil corrected his heir.

Both, Legolas and Bard raised a delicate eyebrow upon those words – yet due to complete different reasons; where the man simply gasped, a fit of giggle escaped the younger elf’s lips. Previously, Legolas had asked Bard if he had ever had commanded pleasure – he never had, he never thought he will, he didn’t even know HOW on earth he should ever accomplish such a thing. There were many things the King of Dale could imagine between the sheets but this? Hardly.

It was Legolas’ sweet voice that interrupted his train of thoughts. “Relinquishing control? You? YOU of all people? Are you certain all is well, Ada?” he purred implementing sincere worries about his Sire’s well-being. If he had been thinking rationally he wouldn’t have said a single word; but Legolas couldn’t shut up. He never could, always wandering on the dangerous boundary his father’s mood certainly was.

Thranduil eyes were closed yet the Prince could still feel the self-satisfied smirk on his son’s lips and soon his own lips curled into an identical smile. Deep inside, Legolas knew he shouldn’t say anything further, shouldn’t force his father to act how he loved it best. But there were no remains of rationality left in his lust fogged mind.

Gods he wanted this, he wanted this so badly – being slapped, being fucked in every way possible until his vision would blur, until his lungs would burn, until he wouldn’t be able to walk for days at best.

It was the exact moment when Legolas walked past his father when the voice of the younger elf filled the room again, his hand was carefully lifted as if he was about to touch the King’s forehead. “I genuinely fear for your well-being, father. Rumors have reached my ears that elderly people tend to die of heart stroke between the sheets if they are not careful.”

Bard gasped aloud. Have all wits left his lover’s heir? This wasn’t some random elf the insolent offspring was talking to but King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great, his own father. And lover.

“Better than ever.” Was all the King said in defense in a tone that was so indifferent that the man hardly couldn’t believe it that Thranduil would tolerate such impertinent behavior.

Of course, he had been right and before Bard or Legolas could comprehend what exactly was happening, the Elvenking sprang to his feet and not a second later, a stroke met his son’s cheek with a strength that made him fall directly into the soft cushions of the massive four-poster bed. “As I have said: take thy due place but you would not listen. In truth you would never listen, no matter how grave the situation is, would you?” No anger tarnished his soft voice as he spoke. “No of course you wouldn’t – you NEVER would! And afterwards you come and complain, whine day after day that you are hurt. The game we play has always been too elaborate for you, my little leaf has it not?”

“Fuck you.” Legolas hissed as he wiped away the fresh blood from his lips. In fact, he wished to give his father’s lover, the dragon slayer a show to remember! Make him watch his depths of depravity, make him come as he had never come before, kiss him, love him – and this was all part of it.

“You can’t just slap your own child in such a manner!” Bard now interfered, his voice crackling the dark brown eyes wide in shock and horror. Never could he understand how Thranduil could be so calm, so indifferent – so extraordinarily brutal towards his own flesh and blood, the only remaining family Mirkwood’s King had.

“Indeed you are right!” Thranduil nodded. “But I can discipline my disobedient lover in such a matter. Even more so when I know just HOW much he desires to be treated roughly – still punishment is yet to come as this was no punishment at all; an appetizer for your eyes to see.”

“I condemn violence…” Bard muttered but his protest grew weak as his eyes were travelling towards Legolas who crawled seductively onto the silken sheets, positing himself perfectly for what was about to come between them. The smile on his bleeding lips was followed by a nod which was reflected by the mirror. “I fear this is all a simple matter of perspective, King of Dale. Believe it or not but we both condemn violence, too. Where you see violence, I see desire flaring, sparking and soaring through the midnight air. Where you see surrender, he sees an opportunity to fuck the breath out of me. And he is right, he always is – this was nothing more than the inevitable.” Legolas breathed shooting Bard a meaningful glance through the mirror as he lifted his arse high into the air.

“I hate you!” Bard cried out of sheer frustration. “Both of you. BOTH OF YOU!”

“King of Dale do not be ridiculous.” Stated Thranduil with a hearty laugh that made the entire situation even more awkward, corrupting Bard’s state of mind. “A look between your legs tells me quite the contrary.”

Immediately, Bard’s face turned scarlet as his eyes traveled down his stomach – he was rock hard, oil and droplets of pre-cum glistening on the head of his cock. The damn elf was right – AGAIN! “Point taken.” He admitted with a heavy sigh

“Points. POINTS?” Legolas squeaked, protesting. “Now take me instead of points.” There he was, on his hands and knees before the startled King of Dale who did not know where to look first. In the mirror, seeing Legolas’ thoughtful yet keen expression, into his lover’s eyes where mischief sparkled liked the treasured gems of starlight the elf had reclaimed in the mountain? Continuously his gaze switched between the two who were so alike yet so very different in their demeanor and behavior.

A horrible, shaky pleasure ripped through Bard when Thranduil came to stand behind him; long tresses were tickling his heated skin, the elf’s skillful lips grazing along his neck, licking and nibbling into the direction of his ear, soft hands cupping and squeezing his erection, his sacs in the most delicate manner.

_‘Oh by the gods’_

It was the most beautiful torture.

Bard floated, mindless, weak and aroused – his mind screamed no but his cock screamed yes.

Yes a thousand times. Convulsed and enchanted - and he convulsed, internally screaming, immediately begging the Elfking to make it stop, but his body refused to listen. Involuntarily his head came to rest against his lover’s shoulders as his knees became weak and weaker.

Whatever he did to slowly undo the man, he never took his eyes from his son, meeting Legolas’ keen gaze in the reflection.

“Ada.” They heard Legolas, who observed every motion in the mirror, say wantonly. “Please make him…” No other words were needed to explain of what the Prince was talking about.

Bard could feel another hand pressing down against his crotch, rubbing circles against it until he gasped aloud.

 _‘Beautifully – and so encouraging’_ Thranduil mused before he raised his voice to address his overly impatient son. “Do not try to charm me, my beloved. Punishment is yet to come.” Where the smile towards the man had been genuine and warm, it had developed into a smug and knowing smirk.

Bard had no idea of what exactly the Elvenking was speaking about and he doubted that Legolas was any wiser – their minds were incomprehensible for him, even more so with the seduction incarnated lying on all fours right before him _._

 _‘So beautiful, so tempting – so eagerly awaiting my cock.’_ Bard gasped upon his own filthy words when his eyes fell onto the elf’s stretched entranced and he hoped dearly that he hadn’t said them aloud.

In fact he couldn’t remember when last his mind had been so fogged with lust, when last he had been so shamelessly wanton.

“Aye, King of Dale. I am all yours to have. In each and every way possible.” Legolas said, his voice muffled by the silken pillow on which his pretty head was resting on.

It was as if the Prince had read his mind when he had in fact only read his facial expression in the mirror. The race of men is incredibly easy to read, Legolas thought to himself just before his musings were interrupted by his father’s most beautiful and charming voice. It was madding how very differently the King behaved towards the man in contrast to himself and jealousy arouse once more within him. Aye, it was their very special game they were playing right in front of the man’s eyes, possibly to an extremer extend than they ever had - but still it bothered him.

After all, his father was everything he ever had, everything he had ever wanted.

The only person he had ever truly loved – the only one in his life that truly mattered.

The world could burn to ashes as long as they would prevail. Darkness could descend right upon them as long as his father’s shining light would guide him. Legolas had always assumed it was mutual what he felt towards his creator – the insatiable desire, the fierce longing that occupied his heart and soul. A love so strong and searing, so unexceptionally unconditional that it almost hurt – a bond that would survive all ages.

Was it truly this? Or was it nothing more than one-sided wishful thinking?

By now the Elvenprince was not so certain anymore what exactly his father felt towards him and the mere thought made his stomach cringe.

 _‘Fuck it.’_ He thought to himself, contemplating in silence.

Wasn’t he himself the very reason why they were in this very situation? Why the man was sharing the most treasured secret in these vast halls?

Hadn’t he pushed his father towards this – hadn’t he been able shut up about that matter?

No – of course not. He never could.

The only way to truly make him shut up was to gag or fuck his pretty mouth, something which occasionally happened too.

Right now he didn’t know whom he hated more; Thranduil or himself? But was it actually hatred he felt – weren’t the subtle notes of hurt and disappointment also present, mingling with a million things that occupied his spinning head? Gods if they would at least fuck him already, fuck all ridiculous thoughts out of him. But nothing ever happened!

“Allow me one second, Bard – than he will be truly yours tonight without confinement.” Thranduil whispered into Bard’s ear but the words were (of course) loud enough for Legolas to hear and his heir’s eyes snapped wide open in an instant. It was certainly some wickedness that awaited him, of that Legoals was certain, but he had no rue idea what exactly his father had planned. Not even the slightest idea. He was as exposed and vulnerable as one could ever be and for the first time this night something that could be vaguely described as fear began to form.

Without awaiting Bard’s reply Thranduil loosened the embrace and walked past the man who sighed upon the loss of the divine contact, warm skin against warm skin has never felt any better.

Neither Bard nor Legolas had any idea where the King’s string of thoughts were leading them.

Something Wicked? Certainly!

Thrilling? Aye! But so inappropriate at the same time? Most likely.

“As I have said my love…” Thranduil began to whisper dangerously calm against his son’s heated skin, the unmistakable sound of victory ringing in his voice. “True punishment is yet to come.” L

Legolas was desperate, so shamelessly wanton and needy that his Sire’s words were nearly lost on him. He was so ready – so painfully hard and eagerly awaiting to be thoroughly fucked, aroused as he hadn’t been in many months – and now this?

An endless prolongation of denial was what awaited him? Oh it was beyond cruel.

“Punishment?” he asked sweetly but he couldn’t keep the subtle note of excitement out of his voice. The word alone from his father’s lips never failed to let his heart leap in joyful anticipation.

“Oh not that sort of punishment you enjoy my little one.” Thranduil laughed and bit simultaneously into the skin right across the collar-bone until the distinct metallic taste of blood tickled his tongue. Legolas’ eyes fluttered close, and he could have screamed from pain, yet he remained silent, biting his tongue not to give his father the satisfaction he was certainly after.

Bard had to swallow again as he saw the blood on his lover’s lips, saw a thin trail of blood ran down Legolas’ ivory skin. Was this carnal display of lust utterly repulsive or strangely fascination he couldn’t decide yet.

Apparently this was another game he didn’t fully understand but for once the King’s son didn’t seem know what was about to happen, either.

“Ada please..” he mumbled incoherently attempting to beg: "Please – either fuck me or tell our honored guest to do so.” He was losing control of his mind and body so easily, already reduced to nothing more than a willing whore, Thranduil mused as his free hand searched for the silken ribbons which he had securely hidden there weeks ago hiding it carefully from Legolas’ view.

“Hush my leaf. Beg nicely” He whispered right before he bit down hard again. It was all diversion that was ever needed; for the mere blink of an eye Legolas was entirely distracted by pain, the anticipating expression finally erased from his handsome face.

Before Legolas knew what was happening Thranduil’s strong hands reached down between his legs and the silken ribbon was securely fastened around his balls and the base of his cock, making it impossible for Legolas to find his release.

It was the highest level of punishment imaginable. He could come already from his thoughts and fantasies alone, yet he would NEVER be able to do – not if Bard decided.

He was entirely depended of the will of another – another that was not even his greatest weakness. If he knew anything it was that Thranduil would **_NEVER_** interfere in that matter, catapulting the punishment to a higher level – the smug smirk and the sparkle in his father’s eyes told him as much.

 _‘ADA’_ he wished to scream but no word would leave his bleeding lips. He felt as if he had been sold – no, given away! – to another like a slave and his stomach cringed; why on earth couldn’t he remain quiet once. Only once! _‘Weak and desperate that is what you are’._

“Oh yes.” Thranduil mused aloud, cherishing the violent struggle against his chest, the lithe figure that desperately tossed and turned in his strong arms. No matter how hard Legolas tried he had not the slightest chance to escape. The truth was that he had planned this all along, ever since Bard had said he had never commanded pleasure and now he was entirely content with his work.

"Perfect. A real punishment…” The mighty Elfking almost purred. “Not a half-hearted one which you usually not-so-secretly enjoy.” It was incredible just how quickly Thranduil could switch between his different demeanors, Bard thought as his voice was admonishing again. “Just to let you know, my precious son: Do not behave appropriately and this will stay the entire night. Bard will fuck you until you toss and turn, come deep inside you. But that is not all. You want to come. You NEED to come so badly but you couldn’t – and the moment Bard is finished with you, I will take over. I will take you, over and over again until you have forgotten everything except my name. But I won’t allow you to come. I simply won’t; I will spill my seed right into your pretty as just before I will tie your exhausted boy onto the headboard. And there you will stay, heated, aroused, and desperate. But sadly unable to touch yourself. Maybe we decide to observe you whilst he sip our wine in the aftermath of pleasure – you will never know.”

“THRANDUIL!” Bard interrupted his lover’s filthy monologue but the elf only laughed innocently. “What?”

Legolas tossed and turned, still fighting desperately against his father’s hold (futilely of course), screaming and cursing at the same time upon the unfair action. He hissed in annoyance – oh how he hated this treatment! He could have cursed his father, he could riot – and he did! It was so unimaginably cruel. Beyond cruel and there was literally nothing he could do against it in the position he was in, completely at his King’s mercy.

“I hate you!” he commented through gritted teeth but his voice and facial expression betrayed him once more. His breathing was uneven, his chest heaving up and down, his pupils dilated, secretly craving his father’s touch, his sinful caresses – he was so easily read.

“Oh yes yes – please let’s have this again. How long has it been since you have last said so? Half an hour maybe?” Thranduil laughed, catching a fist full of the golden hair just to pull Legolas’ face upwards to meet his gaze through the mirror.

 _‘Oh this is cruel’_ Bard said to himself when his gaze caught Legolas’ angry and pain-stricken face in the mirror. The moment he opened his mouth to defend his lover’s son, the Elvenking spoke again. “See, Legolas.” He begun, caressing his child’s shimmering skin with his fingertips. “I have always wonder why I am still alive if you hate me so much my little precious. You should have killed me long ago.” Long fingers were traveling along his son’s cheekbone, over his lips to wipe away remains of blood and saliva. The touch was so gentle, so affectionate that it only made to look everything else even more cruel Bard decided. “Oh no – but wait: you can’t live without me, can you? There is no other to fulfill your sweet perversions, you have lost your mind and heart long ago. Love is a dangerous disadvantage, Legolas. It always has been.”

With every word he tightened the grip he had on his son’s hair until the other visibly flinched under his touch. It was obvious just how much self-control it took Legolas not to trash and kick against his Sire’s hold, to scream from pain and disappointment – but he bit down not to show how much those words actually did hurt.

“I truly hate you.” He finally spat, forgetting for once that they were not alone in this very chambers. “You with all your perversion!”

“No you don’t – and even if you did it wouldn’t make any difference for the moment as I do not care! Do. NOT. MOVE” And with that he rose to his feet again, leaving Legolas on all fours on the bed and much to Bard’s surprise, the Prince did not move a single inch.

“Isn’t he beautiful, my dear?” Thranduil whispered against Bard’s neck when he stood again behind him, placing soft kisses along it until the man shivered beneath his touch.

“Aye.” Bard had to agree with the King’s statement. Beautiful was a breathtaking understatement – it was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen in his entire life. Wondrous shadows were dancing across the golden glooming skin, the long hair caressing his back and shoulders, and gods those perfectly shaped buttocks Bard thought as his gaze travelled along the exposed body. Rather vividly he already saw his cock disappear over and over between the rosy cheeks, saw Legolas writhe against the silks and cushions, rolling his hips backwards to meet his very thrusts.

A gasp betrayed him.

He didn’t know when exactly the elf’s hand has moved between his legs again, stroking his cock in a divine rhythm whilst two identical pairs of eyes met his own across the distance, an equally breathtaking smile reflected by the mirror.

It mattered not.

Long had he fallen under the spell they have placed upon him, caught in a web of sin they have weaved around him, even if it meant to see violent acts he had never thought possible and appropriate between lovers.

“You like what you see.” The King remarked as he scanned every inch of his son’s perfect body; the taut muscles, the golden skin that shimmered in the candle-light. “You crave for what you see – you have long desired it in the last corner of your mind, possibly without even noticing it.” Bard exhaled deeply for it was true what his lover said; he had often caught himself staring at those immortal beings whenever he thought nobody looked. He had spent many a night imagining bedding one of the First born, tried to imagine how their ivory skin felt beneath his fingertips, how they would react upon his touch and kisses.

But he had never dared to – fair they were. But equally dangerous.

“Now there is no need to hesitate anymore, King of Dale. Take what is yours to have this very night.” The Elvenking offered with a generous smile and a twinkle in his eyes, pointing towards the body which resembled a perfectly crafted marble statue this very moment. “Take what I am generously and freely offering.” Soft lips grazed along Bard’s ears, making him moan softly, strong fingers stroked up and down his throbbing erection. Continuously he was whispering dirty and filthy things into the man’s ear, things Bard had never imagined to have the possibility to do. “Allow your fantasies to come true – all of them.” Thranduil breathed, pleasure and contentment in his voice. By now the man did not know any more if he was about to chase his own fantasy or the Elvenking’s. With those lightly spoken words he and with him the divine caresses were gone, vanished like a soft breeze of summer wind that danced through the leaf canopy of the elf’s enchanted forest.

Bard inhaled heavily and let his eyes fall briefly shut.

The divine aromas of scented wood, bees-wax and unknown flowers filled his senses once more but it weren’t those scents that truly tickled his nose. The unique scent of the elves hung in every inch of the room, wafting through it with every breath they took, with every tiny motion of their arms. The sweetness of fresh violets and lilies of the valley, the heavy notes of patchouli and the subtle scents of damp moss. Every scent was accompanied by another nuance which Bard had never smelled before – it was gloriously intoxicating and again as those illicit images floated freely in front of his eyes.

Bard couldn’t explain where those thoughts come from all of a sudden but images that were so utterly wrong begun to occupy his mind; how they devoured each other’s mouths until no air was left in their lungs, fingers so eagerly discovering every inch of ivory skin – gentle at first, but soon they scratched along the skin until angry red bruises lasciviously decorated the otherwise perfect body. Thranduil fucking his precious son breathless in every imaginable way, both their bodies covered in sweet and glistening oil, glooming golden in the flickering candle-light. Pounding into the abused entrance over and over until Legolas cried out in the divine mélange of pain and pleasure – Oh he was going straight to hell for his impure thoughts.

 _‘You like what you see.’_ Did the elf actually say those words or was it just his own imagination, he couldn’t determine anymore.

Carefully, he took one step closer and actually he had to suppress the urge to do exactly what he has seen in his mind; fucking Legolas hard and without mercy. Nearly crushing the lithe boy beneath him until the elf begged for and squirmed, until both were covered in sweat and cum.

“Please..” Legolas said hoarsely, shooting Bard a meaningful glance across the shoulder. “Oh Valar please I can hardly wait to have your cock deep inside of me. Saes do not torture me further.” Despite his usual defiance and insolence he seemed so eager to please. 

Did he beg – did the King’s son actually beg for being taken, for being fucked by his father’s lover right before his parent’s eyes? Never would Bard be able to understand their strange yet spell-binding relationship. Oh how long Legolas had possibly dreamt about exactly this.

“As he has said himself.” Thranduil laughed when he sat down in the heavy chair that stood close to the bed. Leisurely he stretched his muscular body watching Bard who took the final step towards his waiting son. “A whore.”

“Well, possibly because you made him one?” The man retorted with a certain note of irony. He reached down to pet Legolas’ back out of genuine affection. Everything about the King’s son was perfect. Everything. He longed to touch the warm skin that was so silken beneath his touch, to caress him with his lips and hands until he moaned in bliss. Until he would cry out. Play with those intriguing mithril rings until his true self was revealed, until he was reduced to a quivering mess.

“Anyways.” Bard added nonchalantly, kneading the firm buttocks until Legolas gasped aloud. It was as if he finally was playing their very game with them. “What are you going to do? Sit there and wait for better days?”

“Certainly not.” The King’s voice was laced with amusement. Bard’s question was so extraordinarily odd and unnecessary that he simply couldn’t help it. “In all my years I haven’t seen a better day and I highly doubt that there can be anything better than – this. Don’t you have to agree meleth-nîn?”

Legolas guts cringed upon the whispered elvish endearment; he could stomach nearly everything. But this – this was far more intimidate than anything else could ever be. Those words frustrated him, even more than he already was for not being fucked already.

 _‘I hate you, father.’_ He thought in his jealous state of mind and he had to bite his tongue not to mutter this very thought aloud – but even the Prince had to decide that enough was certainly enough. Legolas had already had his fair share of snarky remarks this very night and they haven’t led to a very pleasant turn of event.

“So let us see.” The Elfking began but paused and licked his lips seductively as if he pondered his thoughts about what to tell his mortal lover. “At first I will watch how your cock disappears into his lovely arse. Again and over and over again until distinct moans will tumble freely from his bruised lips. Maybe I will continue to watch a little longer – or maybe not. I have not decided yet and it much depends on your performance. Afterwards I will put his pretty mouth to some good use; I will use him like he so much loves to be used.” His father’s words aroused Legolas so much that he began to rub his backside against Bard, begging wordlessly to make his dream come true. “Well possibly I will fuck him – just before I fuck yourself until your skin is covered in perspiration, until you do not know how to breathe, how to think anymore. Until you are sore from my cock and lips alone – would this be to your liking, King of Dale? Or maybe I won’t do anything of it at all. You will never know for certain.” And then he rose from the chair with a smug and knowing smirk as he walked gracefully around the bed.

 _‘Bastard!’_ was the first thing that came into his head when Thranduil had finished his monologue. _‘Tempting bastard’_ would have been more accurate as Legolas was not the only one who was highly affected by everything the Elfking had said. Wide-eyes followed every step he took and Bard stared at him rather mesmerized when he was lying himself down onto the silken sheets, propping himself up onto his elbow to make certain that he did not block the man’s view into the mirror.

The sight his lover presented was truly one to behold; indeed Bard had problems to tear his gaze apart from the body that looked like a skillfully crafted marble statue. Long golden tresses fanned out over the expensive silk, his pose everything but suggestive – he truly looked like an otherworldly god, a hallucination that certainly would disappear as soon as a finger brushed against the ivory skin. In fact he looked so utterly innocent that it was almost irony in itself given the recent events. The elves’ lovemaking had been rough and frantic; Thranduil had taken what he had desired as if it was naturally and by right granted – just as usual with the only difference that their coupling had been less sadistic than usually, something Bard could hardly imagine.

 _‘Oh my fair gods’_ Bard didn’t know where to look anymore, overwhelmed by the scenery displayed before him. Half-lidded eyes were reflected by the mirror, Legolas mouth gasped slightly open in shameless desire and it nearly was as if he gave a small not of consent – his father lying on the bed like a marble statue. Perfect and utterly arousing in itself. A soft smile dancing across his lips, his gaze shifting between Bard and Legolas back and forth.

He must make for a most decadent sight – Thranduil knew it.

And he would have lied by saying he did not enjoy two pairs of hungry eyes absorbing his stunning beauty, how they roamed freely over his exposed body, his naked skin, widening when their gaze fell onto his cock who stood proud between his legs.

“What are you waiting for, King of Dale?” The younger elf inquired again. “You have heard my father’s words.” Of course he has and he has not forgotten what the King had said but still he felt unable to move or act remaining frozen to the ground absorbing their ethereal beauty, savoring the suggestive looks they exchanged.

Bard still stared mesmerized for long moments as if he had never seen another male nude least an elf. Was the man actually nervous Legolas questioned himself – hardly but still it almost looked as if he was? Quietly he added, locking his eyes with Bard: “And now you hear mine: There is no need to hesitate – take what you desire. Take me, make me yours.”

Words failed the man and he simply nodded which was rewarded with two identical smiles.

Carefully he began to part Legolas’ cheeks with his calloused fingers, encircling the stretched entrance with his thumb. The reward was instant: “Better. So much better.” Legolas commented when he met Bard’s curious stare across the distance once more. Aye he was certainly hoping that Bard would finally give him what he so much desired. But apart from gentle and hesitant touches nothing happened.

“It seems as our honored guest needs some final encouragement.” Thranduil suggested nonchalantly as if this was the most normal thing to voice. But, after all he had witnessed the past hours ‘normal’ seemed to be non-existent in the Woodland Realm. “Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours, my son – what do you think?” The words were nothing more than a breathed whisper and simultaneously the Elvenking’s jewel-adorned fingers found their way into the long hair.

 _‘Oh you are such a bastard!’_ – Bard could have sworn that Legolas would speak at least something in his defense that he would struggle against the hold (as he himself would certainly have done). But nothing ever happened. Apart from a small moan he remained quiet.

The rough treatment seemed to arouse the younger elf only further. Oh how he loved being so exposed, so completely at his father’s mercy, losing control over everything he was. They have never invited a third party to their bedroom and despite all his jealously he truly wondered why they haven’t done so centuries ago. But who would have been suitable to accompany their sweet perversions? No – the mortal was the perfect choice in every imaginable way. Handsome and beautiful, wit and sassy, easy to read and even more easy to please. The last thing they needed was a blushing boy with no own opinion, without any desires and experiences.

No, Bard was amazingly perfect.

“Would you like me to?” Thranduil interrupted, meeting his son’s eyes. The King already knew the answer; the rhetorical question was voiced for the man alone as it was not lost on Thranduil just what an effect their filthy conversation had on him.

The divine mixture of utter repulsion and curiosity. Disbelief and the desire to hear more – so much more. Gladly, he would oblige and speak aloud what Bard never wished to hear a night ago.

“Yes.” Legolas said with a quivering voice. Gods – this endless prolongation was the cruelest torture ever imaginable, so much crueler than a good spanking.

Legolas would do everything to make it stop, no matter what it meant to do.

Whilst one of his Sire’s hand hold his head firmly in place, the fingers of the other danced across his throat in feathery touches, caressing his neck, his ears, his bruised lips – his burning cheeks. The contrast between gentle adoration and painful hold was maddeningly arousing and it didn’t take long until soft moans filled the room.

Never would Legolas get enough of this very special treatment which took their relationship to an entirely different level of trust and love.

It hadn’t been always like this; for weeks and weeks, for many months even they have enjoyed the sensual discovery of their illicit feelings. How to kiss, to touch, and to caress with their lips and fingers; how to make the other cry in the heights of pleasure. How to give and to take, how to cherish to blow the other’s mind away. For many days it was as if the King has suddenly vanished from his halls, his regal duties seemed to be entirely forgotten. All that mattered was the newly found illicit love and the sufficient exploration of every inch of his son’s body. Breathtaking was truly an understatement for everything they did; it had been the most wonderful experience both have ever made. Even for Thranduil who has had many a lover in the past – but, apart from his wife, nobody could ever erase the emptiness that occupied his heart. They have loved and cherished each other with sweet caresses and whispered words of adoration, again and again, thinking they would never tire of this sweetness - until they have discovered that they shared a certain preference which they have kept securely hidden from the other. Mainly out of fear of what the other would think about the perversions that occupied their wicked minds, afraid of being rejected.

Ever since they have discovered their mutual interest in the naughty side of love their relationship has evolved in different spheres, indescribable with words alone and not a single day has passed since then when they have not indulged in their special desires. Often they felt as if they were solely born to cherish, to make the other complete.

“Tell me what you desire, my precious heir.” His father’s whispered words were nearly lost on him as his mind recalled the day when he had finally voiced his darkest dreams aloud, deeply afraid of the rejection which he certainly had expected.

“You.” He managed to choke out.

Thranduil sighed, what an imprecise answer this was. “Doing what?” he asked, tightening the grip he had on Legolas’ hair and briefly anger flicker through the King’s eyes.

“Fucking that pretty mouth of mine.” The elf said without the slightest note of embarrassment whilst Bard blushed scarlet, his eyes switching back and forth between the two. Simultaneously he pursed his lips almost irritably and Bard couldn’t help but to gasp. “Aye – this. Until I cannot breathe anymore, until my lungs are burning. Until I cannot think anymore and my lips are bruised and swollen. Until you come deep down my throat.” Now it was Legolas who was shamelessly playing with the mighty King who actually seemed to lose his composure just a little upon the words; a brief nod of appreciation followed his son’s words.

Carefully Legolas parted his lips, anticipation clearly shining in his eyes when he took the tip of his father’s cock into his mouth, licking along it with his tongue in a tantalizingly slow motion. With a coy expression he met the man’s eyes in the mirror. Bard had not even noticed that he had completely stopped doing anything being fascinated, intrigued by their filthy conversation.

 _‘Oh Legolas, I have taught you well’_ The Elvenking grinned maliciously, rolling his hips without any warning against the awaiting mouth and Legolas couldn’t help but to cough and gag upon the sudden invasion. Before he knew what was happening the thick erection was deeply buried in his mouth, tickling his throat, making it impossibly hard to breathe.

“Is that what you want? What you truly desire?” Thranduil was asking. Didn’t his Sire realize what a tremor his silvery spoken words elicited? Bard thought with a strange fascination.

Something that sounded like a hoarsely said ‘aye’ escaped the lips which were tightly wrapped around the thick arousal, the strong grip Thranduil had in his hair making it unable to escape.

“Just to make certain: You want me to fuck your face until you cry, Legolas?”

His son simply nodded, allowing the cock to brush against the back of his throat. Gods yes, he wanted this so badly, he wanted to bring his father to heights only he could bring him. He wanted to let the King of Dale use him until he couldn’t think anymore. By the Valar yes! Both – both kings should use him properly until he fainted from exhaustion.

 _‘NO you cannot’_ Bard wished to scream, to interfere but no word would ever come; depravity has long won over his morals and secretly he was intrigued by the mere thought of Mirkwood’s proud King fucking his son’s mouth until Legolas gagged around his cock.

The man could feel his face lighting up in embarrassment at those impure thoughts and absently two of his fingers found their way into Legolas’ awaiting entrance.

“Yes. Oh yes. I .. I.. ” Legolas panted when he was freed for mere seconds to catch some breath. Was it directed towards the man or towards his father, no one could ever tell, probably it was meant for both.

“Shut up, will you?” Thranduil demanded and actually Legolas didn’t have any other possibility to obey as his head was forcefully brought down the hard cock again. The elf suppressed the heavy urge to gag as he moved his mouth along the thick length, his tongue lying flat against the back of it.

 _‘Gods Ada, yes.’_ Involuntarily the first tears found their way into his eyes when his swollen lips brushed against the silken base, his nose pressed against his father’s abdomen. Somehow Bard’s curious stare only added to his excitement. Legolas so much desired to show just HOW much he loved it, how perfect he was at what he was doing.

Exactly as Thranduil had predicted – this display of lust was all encouragement Bard needed. Quickly he withdrew his fingers from the elf’s entrance and positioned his cock instead. The ring of muscles clenched around his erection when he slowly began to inch inside; despite their frivolities the elf was extraordinary tight and an audible gasp fell from his lips when his length was squeezed in the most intimate way possible. “Oh fuck.” It escaped him.

For brief seconds Thranduil let go of his son’s head. “Oh fuck indeed!” Legolas urged in an impatient manner, a remark which was instantly rewarded with a smug smirk from his Sire. The words were meant for the man, that much was certain but Thranduil decided not to ignore the little remark that spilled so freely from those bruised lips.

“Oh I’ll fuck that pretty mouth of yours until you can’t tell up from down.” With all his strength he brought Legolas’ head down until the lips brushed against the base of his cock, until his son had to swallow hard around him. “And our honored guest will fuck your tight hole - over and over again until you need to explode. But you can’t. You never will – until he or I decide you can.” Bard stared at them with wide-eyes; such filth from the proud King that had such a command of language was indeed highly unexpected and it aroused him more than he ever thought possible. More than it should ever have.

It was the height of depravity – and he liked it. No, he loved it.

Bard never knew he needed any of it in his life until he had set his feet in those god-forsaken halls.

Instantly, he had fallen under the spell that was woven around him and now he already felt as if he could never life without it. His erection felt most wonderful in the tight heat that was wrapped around him, he could easily imagine fucking Legolas the entire night and if the entire realm paid attention – he simply couldn’t care less.

For the moment Bard remained frozen, his own erection buried half-way in the elf. It was madness – with every word that Mirkwood’s King said, a tremor rushed through his son, making his ring of muscles clench around his cock in the most perfect way. No, he wouldn’t last long – that was certain and possibly Thranduil should have better but the strings around him instead of Legolas. Another careful roll of his hips and he was almost buried completely inside the elf, gasping upon the incredible feel of tightness around his length. Upon Legolas’ muffled cry around his father’s cock who had disappeared completely in his mouth.

Thranduil shifted his own position ever so slightly, making sure that most parts of his son’s face could be seen in the mirror. That he turned his lover into a shameless voyeur was just another little detail which easily could be ignored, even more so when the fascination clearly shone from the man’s eyes.

 _‘Gods forbid’_. Bard’s hazel eyes met Legolas blue steely gaze when Thranduil released his son’s head again for brief moments.

“I ..I” All words are lost on the King’s son when Bard continued to push inside, every careful motion accompanied by an audible gasp, his father’s cock lingering only inches away from his face. Actually Legolas was ashamed, at least a little. He was feverish for this, for the pleasure both could bring him. Thirsty, shivering and aching for what they were about to do with him. He was filled in every way imaginable – and Valar forbid.

He wanted this so badly, he already begged for them to have no mercy in silence.

 _‘A whore’_ Legolas mused to himself when he absorbed his utterly compromising position in the mirror; his bruised and wet lips, his blushed cheeks, oh and the divine feeling of Bard’s cock pushing past his clenching hole – inch by inch. _‘Truly a whore’_ – just as his father has called him many times. Wanton and needy to be properly used until every part of his body hurt, until he would collapse from the irresistible mixture of pain and pleasure, blissful memories which would accompany him for days, sometimes weeks.

“Yes. Oh yes.” The elf panted, feeling more and more of the man’s cock disappear in his stretched channel. “GODS. Fuck me?” he added lecherously, hoping that either Thranduil or Bard would give into his pleas; the chances that he would were indeed high. It wouldn’t take long until he would be reduced to a quivering mess, and involuntarily his eyes closed; thinking about Bard ponding into him ruthlessly was more than enough to set his world on fire.

“Shut up. And part your lips further.” The King demanded when Legolas withdrew his mouth to catch his breath for far too long for his liking. How on earth Thranduil could be so entirely unaffected by the situation would always remain a mystery to Bard; he was already unable to form a single coherent thought seeing his cock inch inside the elf more and more. Mirkwood’s King was as handsome and intimidating as he had thought about him when they first have met. His fingers adorned with glittering rings, fair as all elves were but still the muscular body of a warrior. A breathtaking beauty.

“OH FUCK.” He cried out when Bard was completely buried within him, the calloused hands clinging to his hips as support. _‘Move.. MOVE by the Valar’_ – but the man didn’t, giving Legolas the time to adjust to his cock, even if it meant the elf cursed him a hundred times.

“Legolas…” Thranduil admonished, but his son pretended not to hear his Sire’s word. No – foronce he wouldn’t follow his father’s whispered commands (even if it certainly meant consequences), savoring the feeling Bard’s cock elicited deep within him instead. Gods it was so very different from how his father used to fuck him, as any other elf has taken him, truly thrilling.

Absently, he licked his lips in anticipation, moaning softly when Bard made the first careful thrust as if he was still an inexperienced virgin. And yet another, carefully rolling his hips against his lithe body – slowly withdrawing and pushing instantly inside again. Legolas could feel Bard’s chest hair against his buttocks, feel the hard sacs brush against his own, Bard’s fingernails digging into his skin – enough to let his breathing become uneven.

“Gods you are tight.” he heard the man comment when he finally decided to obey his father’s command without protest which would have been futile anyways. Fighting his Sire was no option, never has been and worse, he did not even wish to fight against being fucked in that manner.

All he wished was to tease his proud lover until he would lose patience with him. So it ever was.

Legolas’ entire body was a quivering mess already, a soaring heat flaring through his veins; the anticipation was insanely strong. Floating memories when his pretty mouth got fucked like this for the first time swirled through his head. Never had he been so turned on by anything as the day it had happened for the first time. Legolas hadn’t known he wanted this, not until it had accidentally happened; it was his great weakness his father had soon found out – his heir could never get enough of it and the young elf would do anything for that sort of attention.

At times, Mirkwood’s King has found it ridiculous, has not even quite believed that his son’s intentions were true – but it was sweet reality, something both enjoyed beyond measure.

Legolas opened his mouth wide again, straining against the hand which was holding his head. “How wonderful you look.” Thranduil was saying when his son’s tongue kept darting out, licking along the tiny slit at first, along his lips a second later. He inhaled sharply and his hand tightened in Legolas’ hair, pushing his face downwards all the way until he could feel his cock deeply buried in his lover’s throat. Yes – this was it, this was exactly what his son so much desired. For long seconds he held him down, but let go immediately when Legolas began to choke around him, sending a wave of divine vibration through his entire body.

“It’s alright my little leaf – not yet. Not yet.” The younger elf snapped for air just before his face was pushed down again. This time he remained a little longer, his nose pressed against the soft skin of his father’s pelvis, this time coughing and choking around the thick length.

Bard had the perfect view, seeing the sensual display reflected in the mirror.

And to his shame he had to admit that it aroused him. More than it ever should. All moralities were long forgotten in the sweetness of pleasure, even if there was nothing sweet between this strangely fascinating couple. There was a rudeness, cruelty even between them he had never witnessed between anyone. And it thrilled him so much that he actually forgot about everything around him. To think, to breathe, to move.

Of course, his state of mind did not go unnoticed. “And for you, King of Dale - Have **_you_** come to watch?” Thranduil laughed, letting his head fall back further until the tips of his long hair brushed against the delicate cushions.

No he hasn’t – but he could easily spent the entire night watching their sensual display of sin.

“Now come – take him hard, take him rough – take him until he cries out your name. Or mine. It matters not.”

Bard didn’t know anymore what he should expect from himself – he simply couldn’t trust his usual train of thoughts any longer. A twinge of shame – yes most likely accurate. But there was more, so much more that ran through his lust-fogged mind and almost without any shame he began to do exactly how he was told.

The grip he had on Legolas’ body tightened and he began to roll his hips again, pushing in all the way in only to withdraw completely shortly afterwards. Again and again until Legolas cried out when the secret spot was hidden for the first time.

“Perfect King of Dale.” Thranduil commented with a smug smirk. “But touch his mithril rings; believe me he goes crazy when you do so.” Oh yes, those pierced nipples had intrigued him since he first had seen him but by now he had entirely forgotten about them. Almost carefully he brought one of his arms beneath the elf’s body, rubbing the tip of his index finger against the already hard nipple. “No worries, they won’t tear.” With a little discomfort, Bard headed the King’s advice and tore just a little at the ring whilst he buried his cock all over again in the tight channel.

 _‘Oh fuck’_ Legolas would have screamed wouldn’t it have been for the cock between his lips. His head moved with his father’s movements, up and down, up and down again. Choking and coughing, all dignity forgotten. A horrible shaky pleasure ripped through him when Bard’s erection hit the sweet spot again; over and over and the first sparks of a searing heat coursed through him as he jolted, trembling in Bard’s arm. He felt as if he would fall – spiraling downwards until white stars occupied his vision. But he didn’t fall as strong arms were wrapped around him, keeping his body firmly in place as the thrusts became harder and more frantic.

YES – this was it.

This was everything he had ever dreamed of: being taken on both sides until he struggled to breathe, until he felt as if he was torn apart. Legolas didn’t know any more if he was meeting Bard’s thrusts or if the man made him, if he swallowed and moved around his father’s cock or if his head was simply forced down over and over again. It was everything he had ever dreamt of – and so much more. The distinct taste of pre-cum already tickled his tongue and given his father’s dark eyes it took the King much self-restrain not to let go completely.

Bard adjusted his body ever so slightly to make certain that he would hit the elf’s prostate with every roll of his hips, moaning and gasping incoherently. No, he wouldn’t be able to keep this pace for long. His hungry eyes travelled over Legolas’ lithe but still muscular body with skin as smooth as the most expensive silk. How he ached under his touch, meeting every thrust with an eagerness he hardly thought possible. Slowly his gaze wandered from the elf’s back towards the mirror and the sight reflected took his breath away.

“Oh by all means” he panted. Legolas struggled to escape, but his father’s strong hands kept his head firmly in place, making him swallow his cock until his eyes fell shut, until he coughed and gagged, saliva decorating his lips and chin. It was so wrong, but so utterly arousing and he could certainly come from the sight alone; Legolas silken tresses clinging to his forehead, his shoulders, tiny droplets of sweat forming on his forehead.

_‘Gods! It feels so good! I want to cry, I want to scream. I want to come!’_

But nothing of it was possible for the Elvenprince being reduced to an object of pleasure, being at their mercy. He didn’t has any previous experience with the man but he knew his father all too well; a thousand things could happen but being freed soon was certainly not among them.

“What a talented mouth you have.” Thranduil said, and to Bard’s relief finally his voice was hoarse and trembling. Until now he had almost restrained the urge to thrust into the eager mouth, but it was sheer impossible to keep is demeanor. The internal battle was lost and within seconds he was thrusting deeply into his son’s mouth in a firm and steady rhythm that exactly matched Bard’s own. In and out, in and out again until only moans and muffled cries filled the room. Legolas felt as if he would burst from inside, as if he would pass away from lack of air; desperately he tried to escape the hold to catch his breath, but he failed, coughing and choking helplessly. As arousing it was, Bard couldn’t help to pity the writhing elf beneath him.

Absently, Legolas changed the position of his body and brought one of his hands around the base of his father’s cock to hinder him of thrusting too deeply. Aye – he should have known it the moment he first thought about it that it wouldn’t change anything, possibly make things only ‘worse’.

“No hands – or otherwise I have to bind them too.” A malicious smile graced his features and Bard eyes widened again in surprise – the smirk was easily read, even for him. The King could hardly mean it, could he? Bard thought, even if by now he should know that words were never spoken lightly in this kingdom.

Legolas nodded around the thick cock in his mouth, acknowledging his Sire’s words and swallowed once more, fighting against his gagging reflex as much it was possible. But with another thrust into his throat the previously said words seemed to have been lost on him again as the hand found its way back.

“Haven’t I made myself clear?” Thranduil scolded him with an annoyed sigh, but there was something else in the King’s voice. The entirety of the situation made his voice tremble slightly, made him sound much gentler than before. “I have said no hands – and I meant it, Legolas.” A single movement of his arm under the pillow he was resting on and another silken ribbon was in his hand. Legolas opened his mouth as if to protest when he saw the ribbon dangling right before his watery eyes, but the look on his father’s face silenced him before he said a word. No – he didn’t want this! Wasn’t a string around his cock not punishment enough, was this really necessary? Bard’s mouth dropped open – every time when he thought it could not get more wicked, naughty, insane – how ever this should be called, he found out to be mistaken.

“Ada…” he began but was cut off immediately.

“Yes Legolas… I know you are not overly fond of this very special treatment – not yet at least!” The King said in a stern tone, enforcing the grip he had around his son’s wrists just a little more until his son groaned in response. “But it matters not. My will is your desire. So it ever was, so it will always be.”

“You sick bastard.” Legolas spat when his wrists were securely tied together behind his back, his entire body trembling and quivering with a sudden violence. Actually wouldn’t it be for Bard’s strong arms around his waist he wouldn’t be able to support himself any longer.

“With pleasure.” The most malicious smirk graced the kingly lips as he lifted his son’s chin to meet his furious gaze. “Oh how beautiful you are when you are upset – angry even. But be furious as you wish – it won’t change anything for you my dear; and now please shut up and have the dignity to show our honored guest that I have taught you well in everything.”

Legolas swallowed hard, pondering his swirling mind how to proceed.

Aye, he was furious upon the unfair treatment but he was also more excited than he had been in many many years.

It shouldn’t arouse him to such an extend – but it did!

Often when he couldn’t find any sleep late at night he delved into the darkest pits of depravity his wicked mind was capable of; imagining how he was gagged and bound, unable to move, unable to protest – being used as his lover pleased. Over and over again until he would faint from exhaustion. And now it was as if his wildest dream did come alive. He could have squeaked from sheer excitement but instead he struggled futilely against the hold – but wasn’t struggling also part of their wicked game? A last glimpse of pride remained – at least he had to ** _pretend_** that this was not to his liking (even if it certainly was) – not yet at least. And a little guilty conscious on Bard’s side could only help, he thought in silence when his gaze fell onto the reflection in the mirror. Apparently the man was torn – aye there was indescribable lust shining from his hazel eyes but there was something else, too. Hesitation? Worries? Detestation for the King’s actions even? Legolas couldn’t tell for certain.

Soon – in fact in the moment when his father’s fingers wandered tantalizingly slow from his chin along his cheekbone, brushing against his ear until he visible shudder rushed through him. But it wasn’t only the soft touch against his heated skin that made him tremble but the motions of Bard’s hips. Carefully and slowly at first but within the blink of an eye his thrusts became harder and more frantic, hitting the hidden gland every once in a while. Whilst Thranduil had bound his wrists, the man had refrained from moving entirely, even stopped to touch him.

But now he did and it was divine and it didn’t take long until shameless moans filled the room when one of Bard’s hands caressed the pierced nipples, rubbing and twirling them between his fingers.

“Such a pity to make you stop.” The king said nonchalantly when his fingers finally found their way into the blond strands again. As long as his immortal life lasted, he would never tire of the wonderful sounds his son would make in the throes of passion, the subtle nuances between moans which he could easily read by now.

Legolas knew what it meant and his heart already leapt in anticipation.

Yes – YES a thousand times.

He wanted this so badly, so badly that the ribbons around his cock began to hurt; and then – nothing happened.

“Ada..” Legolas pleaded in helpless desperation. “Please .. fuck me.” He didn’t and couldn’t care anymore how shamelessly wanton he sounded. He **_was_** wanton. Desperate. And so close, so very close to come with Bard fucking him right into heaven.

“Oh I love it when you ask so nicely for being humiliated.” The King breathed in the softest voice he could muster allowing the fingers of his other hand to brush against his heirs lips; a sinful distraction from the grip in the blond hair that tightened with every word he spoke until the first signs of pain appeared on Legolas’ face.

 _‘Beautiful’_ Thranduil said to himself and forced his erection past his son’s lips, down his throat until the bruised lips met his silken skin, keeping him down until the other nearly passed out. Only then, Legolas was released to catch his breath, coughing and inhaling sharply only to be pushed down again – and again. Bard stared truly mesmerized into the mirror; enchanted by the dark eyes, the rosy lips that were tightly wrapped around the base of his father’s cock – by the pulsating channel around his own erection. Absently, he increased the pace of his thrusts, fucking Legolas hard and deliberately.

The continuous double assault brought the Elvenprince to heights of pleasure he had not even dared to imagine; he was sore, bruised, humiliated – and he loved every part of it.

“Better.” Thranduil commented out of nowhere and for the first time, Bard saw a glint of tears bead in those long lashes when the candle-light caught them. It was so utterly wrong what they did, yet it felt so very right at the same time! “So much better my love. You do so well.” The King encouraged his son, adoration audibly in every word he said.

It was hardly a surprise that his son failed to withstand the demon of temptation that Mirkwood’s King certainly was. But it wasn’t only Legolas – Bard had also fallen under the spell of the blonde Elfking.

Legolas was completely at their mercy, unable to support his weight by himself – his head firmly held by his father’s hands, the man’s strong arms hindering from falling. Unable to think, almost unable to breath, sucking and swallowing the hardness between his lips. Again and again, gagging, coughing, chocking until his burning cheeks were wet from tears.

“You are incredible.” the words tumbled from his Sire’s lips even before he knew he wanted to say something aloud, losing himself completely in the pleasures that the wet mouth around his cock brought to every inch of his body. Fascinated by Thranduil’s faltering composure, Bard increased his pace until Legolas’ entire body was quivering in his arms, trembling like a leaf in the wind. And with every thrust he made, the elf’s mouth sank down deep his father’s cock until the King seemed to faint.

“More..” So close, so very close Thranduil was already, feeling the distinct waves of orgasm building within him with every thrust, sweat was beginning to bead at his brow.

Where Bard had been hesitant at first – he couldn’t hold back anymore, his thrusts became hard, the pace almost brutal until Legolas cried out around his father’s cock, coughing and gagging intensely. Whilst one arm was wrapped tightly around him to hinder him from falling, the fingers of the other weren’t idle at all, either stroking the elf’s painfully hard cock or playing with the mithril rings. More than once the lithe body went nearly limp in his arms when the cock in his mouth blocked his respiratory system. When the elf was released for seconds, it escaped him in a hoarse voice: “This is so unfair” he complained, catching his breath. “I need to explode but I can’t – I am so close, so very close but still I cannot. It feels like you’re burning me up from the inside out. Do not stop, please.” He wasn’t finished but the words died on his lips when his father’s cock found its way back into his mouth again.

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed at once and his lips move into a thin smile. “A whore as I said.” He said with a laugh, petting his son’s burning cheeks. “And given the King of Dale’s expression on his face he actually **_WOULD_** pay for you”. Bard had never paid for something alike; he never had to and also he never had the money for it, either but yes: with little shame he had to admit he actually would invest a coin or two to fuck the King’s son again. Legolas was addictively erotic – he can’t remember when he had a better fuck than this.

“Not unfair, but perfect. Oh by the Valar we should do this more often.” Thranduil remarked. “Apparently you perform even better with spectators.” And it was true Legolas had to admit even if he couldn’t explain it. Desperately he swallowed and sucked – cherishing the divine feeling of being filled in every possible way, his lips stretched around his father’s cock, his ring of muscles clenching around Bard’s. It was divine. Thrilling. And so arousing – never had he been harder in all his life.

Legolas yelped upon the brutal pace both of his lovers had decided to set, endless tears forming in his eyes but still he desperately tried to keep his eyes open and meet the man’s eyes through the mirror. Those big hazel eyes that were almost black by now, half-lidded, sparkling with lust that intensely stared back at him, moaning and gasping for air. He could see Bard bending forward and not a moment later he could feel the man’s teeth sink into his shoulder until he cried out.

It was too much – all at once, an overwhelming sensation washing through him, making his entire body soar. Involuntarily his eyes fell shut but not for long. “Eyes I open I demand. I want you to watch yourself how you are being fucked.” Bard could barely breathe anymore, the filthy remark of the Elfking pushed him nearly over the edge and his fingers began to curl in the blond tresses, meeting Thranduil’s hands.

For the blink of an eye both stared at each other, fascinated by the soft touch on their lover’s head - for the moment the world stood still and only they were the only ones which mattered on earth.

“Perfect.” And with that the King withdrew his own hand, completely giving Bard control of everything what was happing between them. Much to his own surprise he automatically did what the King expected him to do – pushing Legolas’ head down in the same rhythm as he was fucking his arse only to let go when he felt consciousness almost leave his lover.

Never – not even in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined that he could involve in such deprivation, never did he even think that such things existed out there in the vast wide world. And now he was the very center of the play of incarnated sin. Bard never knew he wished to say something until the words spilled freely. “Your father is accurately right; Look at me when I touch you, when I fuck you – when WE fuck you.” Yes – fucking was accurately precise. This had nothing to do with what was commonly described as making love. No, this was feral and carnal, all three were reduced to pleasure and bliss, rutting like animals in the forest. There was nothing fair and light to those elves anymore.

Thranduil could come from his lover’s words alone; he hadn’t expected the man to play along **_THAT_** well but apparently the ice has finally melted, all doubts were erased and he highly appreciated the turn of events. “Oh aren’t you beautiful when you are completely at our mercy?” A brief nod was all Legolas managed to do and a satisfactory smirk was the reward for it. “I want that **_YOU_** see how you come undone under my caresses” Bard continued. “How you will beg for release. Over and over again. Until I finally give into.”

Bard smirked as he met the Elfking’s eyes – his pupils dilated, his cheeks shimmering in soft red tones, his lips parted and tiny pearls of sweat glistening on his golden skin. “You like what you hear…” He said using the King’s words and mimicking his voice. Thranduil slowed down his thrusts for the moment until he was just leisurely pressing his cock into his son’s mouth. Could it actually be? Thranduil, the great King of the Elves at a loss, his eyes locking with his mortal lover who fucked his heir so nicely.

Probably not the wisest thing to do, Legolas thought to himself as his Sire’s temper was flaring, easily disrupted. His tantrums legendary. A wrong word and the tides could easily turn; but it was hilarious in itself and Legolas admired his lover for his bravery. He couldn’t stop giggling; Bard simply sounded hilarious and fairly accurate. The effect of his laughter however was unexpected - every laugh was sending a thousand vibrations through his father’s body until Thranduil couldn’t take any more, writhing beneath him, aching his back against the silken cushions.

“I truly wonder, King of the Elves.” Bard continued with a smug smirk, adjusting the pace of his thrusts to equal Thranduil’s. Simultaneously he began to slowly stroke Legolas’ cock with his loose hand. He was hard – so painfully hard in his hands, beyond ready to come; but he couldn’t. “His ass is so tight, so incredibly tight – don’t you use him properly? Or is it merely a gift only elves possess?” he murmured, placing soothing strokes on Legolas’ back. “It feels incredible – but you know this already, don’t you?”

Slowly, Bard’s hands wandered away from the elf’s cock; along his stomach and chest until his fingers flickered over the hard nipples, tearing at the mithril rings in not such a gentle manner. Legolas almost fainted, aching his back to escape Bard’s touch, panting and screaming around his father’s cock and momentarily he forgot to do anything apart from that.

“Legolas..” Thranduil whispered when he slapped his son’s cheek lightly as reminder that he had other obligations apart from staring into the mirror and meeting Bard’s thrusts. However, it didn’t lead to the desired effect; Legolas was completely mesmerized by the man’s filthy words and his divine touches. This time, the slap came harder and Legolas nearly jumped upon the unexpected assault.

“Do not forget about me.”

He never would!

A small whimper rose from Legolas’ throat. “My King,” he breathed before he licked around the tip of the erection.  

Legolas obeyed and began to swallow again, forcing his tongue against the back of his father’s cock, swallowing, sucking until his cheeks were burning. But he didn’t stop – couldn’t – wouldn’t. Bringing the one he loved most to the divine heights of orgasm was all what mattered; he wished him to come hard, to come harder than he had possibly come in many months – right down his throat. Every strength that remained in his exhausted body was

“VALAR.” Bard heard Thranduil cry out but the sound was muffled as his mind was completely caught in what he was doing, seeing his sweat-covered body in the reflection of the mirror, watching Legolas’ bruised lips stretched around his own father’s cock, feeling his channel clenching around his own hardness. Another hard thrust and Bard gasped for air, his entire body flushed and his vision going dark at the periphery. “Oh by the gods.” – it escaped him and as if his hands had a will of their own he began to undo the lacings around the elf’s sack. Possibly Legolas attempted to say something but every word died on his lips when Thranduil’s hips thrust forward once more, shoving his cock deep down his son’s throat, lacing his fingers again with Bard’s own on his son’s scalp.

Legolas moans changed into violent sobs upon the brute force that was used on him.

“Calm down, my dear.” Thranduil said amiably, gently stroking his son’s hollowed cheeks with his free hand, but Legolas only continued to dissolve further into a quivering mess, babbling nonsensical words around his cock.

Roughly, Legolas pushed his arse against the man, forcing him deep into his channel until Bard couldn’t help but cry out. “You little slut.” He said, forcing the elf’s head down on his father again before he fucked him hard. And harder, making sure that every thrust was angled to hit Legolas’ prostate. The effort was soon rewarded, as Legolas writhed beneath him, mewling and crying out so loudly that the man thought the entire realm must hear them. A fierce tremor rushed through Bard and his head fell backwards in the throes of passion. _‘Beautiful.’_ Thranduil thought, even more so when Bard spoke, his voice cracking and broken. _‘Absolutely stunning. And all mine to have when I am done with my precious leaf.’_

“Come for me.” He heard his lover panting but was not entirely certain if it was him the elf meant. It mattered not. “Come WITH me.” the reflection of Legolas’ flushed face in the mirror, those rosy lips bruised and wet from saliva which were tightly wrapped around the flesh he should never caress in such a manner. With a final thrust, a last stroke of his hand against Legolas’ cock he came with a sharp cry almost collapsing on top the one who couldn’t support himself with the bound hands, panting both their names repeatedly. And not a second later, he could feel the elf’s ring of muscles spasm, pushing him further over the edge if this was ever possible. Muffled cries filled the room when the elf almost came in his hand, his entire body expect for his head jerking uncontrolled wouldn’t it have been for the fingers of Thranduil’s free hand which were all of a sudden around the base of his son’s arousal whilst the other held his head down.

“Let go of him. Let go of his head. You will kill him.” Bard managed to choke out, seeing the elf’s eyes grow unfocused beneath his own veil of stars that blurred his vision.

“No. He shows an extraordinary resilience towards my …” The King simply stated, apparently being entirely unaffected by his son’s worrisome physical state. It was their special game they were playing, a game which was dangerously and enticing at the same time. They were wandering the edges of sanity. Legolas gasped and choked around the twitching cock in his mouth, even tried to struggle himself free until the tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, his body went heavy in Bard’s arms. It was the moment when all jerking of the younger elf had ceased when Thranduil finally let go both of his head and his cock.

A final breath and Legolas came harder than he had ever come in many centuries, crying out Bard’s and his King’s name around the erection which was still brushing against the back of his throat.

“Oh by the gods, Legolas. Do not stop, my love.” Thranduil whimpered, entirely unashamed of begging him to continue his ministration. The proud Elvenking reduced to a quivering mess, dissolving in pleasure and endless lust. Panting, moaning, screaming even. All pride and dignity forgotten, stripped off all his titles and kingly demeanor. It was as if Bard fell for Thranduil all over again, completely taken aback by the beauty he saw. This was the Thranduil he wished to see ever since they have first met; debauched and trembling, biting his lower lip out of sheer frustration and not a second later his body was overtaken by the divine waves of pleasure that pulsed through him.

“Yes. Oh YES.” Thranduil panted, the sensation finally overwhelming him. Actually it was the very first time that he saw the proud Elvenking like he truly was, the regal mask scattering into a thousand pieces. And it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. So sinuous, so sensual with his lips slightly parted and his ivory face decorated with flushed cheeks – so utterly arousing that words completely failed him. Frozen to the place he was in, his lax cock still buried into Legolas stretched channel he watched, the man absorbed every nuance of the divine sight that was unfolding right before him. A final thrust right into his son’s mouth who still swallowed eagerly was all it needed to make him come, elvish curses and endearments spilling freely from his lips and at first Legolas did not even realize that Bard undid the ties around his wrists, finally freeing him. He sucked and swallowed, eyes closed in pure bliss.

“Oh my love.” Thranduil whispered, the storm of passion still overwhelming him. “You were truly amazing my dear.” He added as he brushed his fingers affectionately over his head. Only then, Legolas lifted his head to catch his breath, blond strands clinging to his glooming face, licking along his lips in the most seductive manner to meet Bard’s eyes in the mirror and it was as if a smile hushed over his fair face.

“Amazing?” Bard asked with a raised eyebrow. “Fucking gorgeous I would say.”

“I do not object to this statement.” Thranduil laughed. “Actually I highly approve of your choice of words.” It was nothing but the truth.

In the meanwhile Legolas obediently dipped down once more and began to suck and lick his father’s cock clean. A sigh falls from the Elvenking’s lips, deep and appreciative. Aye, he had indeed taught his heir well – in each and every way imaginable. There was so much love, so much affection between them all of a sudden – gently whispered words of adoration, soft touches that Bard hardly could believe their special preferences between the sheets. But he had witnessed it with his own eyes and ear, yet it puzzled him and he couldn’t help but stare. Everything they did was so wrong but it looked incredibly right and for long moments he simply adsorbed the otherworldly sight before him, how they were kissing and touching the other who looked so alike.

In his post-orgasmic haze and enchantment Bard did not even realize that Legolas rose to his knees and turned around, at least not until the elf’s lips were almost brushing his skin, a warm smile decorating his lips.

“Hannon le.” Legolas whispered against Bard’s mouth, his lips wet from saliva and cum just before he placed a lazy yet demanding kiss onto the startled man’s lips. Actually Bard felt as if he was in the position to thank his lover’s son who so willingly has spread his slender legs for him.

“And…” Legolas inquired in his sweetest tone and with the most curious smile when he placed both of his perfectly manicured hands around the man’s neck. “You have previously said that you have never fucked an elf before but that it can’t be so much different from fucking another male – now was it. WAS it?” His voice was crackling so curious he was.

“I highly doubt that **_YOU_** are comparable to any random elf, are you?” Bard retorted with a laugh, taking both of the elf’s hands into his own and biting the already swollen lip.

 _‘Certainly not’_ he was about to reply but changed his mind in the last moment; all words were lost in the passionate kiss that followed and was eagerly returned by the man.

“Valid point.” Thranduil laughed, interrupting their little private ‘conversation’. It was crystal clear what his son was up to – and it was certainly not entirely to his liking but he doubted that Bard could read between the seductively whispered lines. “Legolas, I warn you – do not become possessive. I am not done yet with our honored guest…” a remark which was rewarded with a delicately raised eyebrow, but apart from that and a little to Bard’s surprise the Prince remained quiet for long moments.

Bard’s gaze switched between them back and forth, wondering who would break the silence first. Of course it was Legolas. “And I?” the King’s son asked almost shyly when his father’s skillful fingers danced over his hips and thighs.

 _‘Oh by the gods’_ Bard thought once more. Again Legolas looked so innocent and fragile. Wouldn’t he have witnessed the prince’s other side, he couldn’t quite belief how naughty, filthy even the elf was.

 _‘Stop being such an attention whore’_ Thranduil was about to say but bit back the snarky remark. “You will sit down, take some deep breath and watch how I take what you have secretly desired ever since. Just look at you – you are completely wasted, I highly doubt that you could be put to good use.” A look of disappointment hushed over Legolas’ face but he had to admit that his father was completely correct in his assumption. Never before had he been **_THAT_** exhausted, he felt as if he could pass out within a second still the remark bothered him. Indeed he had dreamt of bedding the famous dragon slayer for various reasons.

“You cannot already…?” Bard said with utter disbelief.

“Oh I can many things, be assured of that King of Dale.” Thranduil laughed, commenting on the confused look that the man shot him. “Do you truly think I will let you drift off to sleep untouched?”

‘ _No of course not you vain bastard’_ Bard thought it was ridiculous in itself, given the insatiable display of lust Thranduil had previously shown.

Despite his usually ice-cold demeanor a searing flame seemed to burn within the King this very night, a flame that would possibly burn him alive.

**~~**


	9. Chapter 09

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard has a most pleasant ride and Legolas simply cannot get enough.

**Chapter 09**

**~~**

“You do not believe me? Is it that?” asked the Elvenking with a generous smile as he stretched his body languidly against the silken cushions, his hair fanned out in a halo that surrounded his fair face. Thranduil was extraordinarily beautiful, Bard thought once more and the elf’s words were nearly lost on him. “Now come – such hesitation all of a sudden.” His challenging gaze lingered on the man’s face but for once it wasn’t too easy to read the Bard’s facial expression. Bard’s eyes went wide, but apart from this he remained quiet and did not move a single inch, something which the elf found highly unnerving. After all he was the King, used that others immediately obeyed his very requests no matter what he demanded – or consequences would certainly follow in whatever accurate form. But after all Bard wasn’t Legolas nor was he some young elf from his guard which he occasionally took to his chambers for a fleeting night.

_From one king to another._

The truth was, that Thranduil simply wasn’t used to such a defiant behavior any more; his tantrums were legendary and well-known even in other realms. It had been different when his father was still alive but since he ruled this kingdom over a millennium by now it was a rare occasion indeed. Aye every once in a while his insolent son tested his boundaries (futilely of course – and mostly Legolas did it for his own enjoyment) – but apart from that nobody ever did.

Nobody ever dared.

Yet there they were – and Bard still didn’t move an inch but smirked back at him. Delicately Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “You don’t expect me to do all the work, do you?” the Elvenking asked with a smirk and for brief moments it was as if his voice was trembling ever so slightly with astonishment. Bard only returned his very gesture but did not say a single word.

 _‘Arrogrant bastard’_ If fatigue wouldn’t already begin to overwhelm him, he possibly would have slapped his lover right across the face – but maybe the subtle way was even the better choice? It certainly was Bard decided. Thranduil was at loss and the man cherished the brief moments of satisfaction – it was a moment to behold. Still, somebody definitely had to slap the arrogance off the elves’ face.

“Work you say?” a deep voice intoned calmly “Pardon me, but I did not know that fucking does count as work among the elves.” he added, observing Thranduil’s reaction closely – slowly the elf’s shining eyes widened and his mouth gasped ajar with every word that reached his pointy ears. Yes, Bard was entirely satisfied with himself. “See – I have always wondered what it meant when you stated that you are ‘outrageously overworked’ – but now everything makes sense.”

Both Legolas and Thranduil stared at him with wide eyes and open mouths, but Bard only laughed wholeheartedly - and so did Legolas when the first shock had subsided.

The man’s laughter was wonderfully musical as was his voice; like a roaring thunder and a deep rumble of baritones combined. Bard was treading on dangerous ground, he knew it – but he didn’t cower before Thranduil’s possible outburst but kept his gaze steadfastly ahead. Was it wise, he didn’t know but he wouldn’t crawl – nor would he beg. Not for being taken nor for forgiveness. In fact he began to enjoy the dangerous game he was playing, already pondering his thoughts of how far he could push the limits. A little – only a little further he decided, the elf’s face was worth all the effort. When his self-satisfied smirk was at its peak the King’s voice filled the room.

For the elf it was sheer impossibly hard to keep a straight face given his son’s and Bard’s reaction. “Mortal bastard.” Thranduil muttered under his breath in played annoyance but his smile finally betrayed him. He relished in the reprieve from his councilors, his guards and servants – all those bland courtesies and fake smiles which were ever tiresome. Bard was a refreshing diversion from all the yes-sayers which surrounded him. (That his infamous tantrums were the very reason why they behaved as they did, that he had made them yes-sayers was a different matter entirely, something the King easily ignored.). He was in need of opponents, not victims for his psychological games.

Again the man’s heart-warming laughter filled the room. “I beg to differ slightly – YOUR mortal bastard.” Retorted Bard in an instant, letting his eye-lids flutter as he softly added: “Please?”

Their mingled voices rang in Legolas’ head and the young elf couldn’t yet decide if it annoyed or aroused him. _‘Your. YOUR! I hate you – I hate you both’_

“As you wish to be addressed, King of Dale.” The King said softly. Seductively. “There are many words in my wondrous and fair tongue for the one I desire to fuck.”

“Ada!” Legolas interrupted, exhaling the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. This was certainly going too far for the prince’s liking.

“Shut up, Legolas.” Admonished Thranduil who certainly was not amused by the interruption. “Will you?” he added with a raised eyebrow. Slowly his eyes wandered from Bard’s face towards the corner of the room where another wooden casket stood. Bard could only guess what mysteries were kept inside, but apparently it was nothing all too pleasant as Legolas winced, following his father’s gaze. There was a hint of a blush creeping up the elf’s cheeks and Bard’s curiosity was again sparked – what could possibly be inside the casket?

But a little to his disappointment Legolas remained quiet and didn’t solve the riddle for him - he simply nodded with a twang of bitterness in his heart unable to speak anything in his defense.

Bard almost felt pity for the King’s son being so excluded from everything he so much desired but for once he hadn’t anything to say in the matter (and he was not entirely certain if he had at any time.) “Your time will come, Legolas.” said Bard as he placed a gentle kiss onto the elf’s lips before he finally did as he was told long minutes ago, shifting carefully into Thranduil’s direction.

Legolas’ heart leapt in joy – certainly Bard’s words had been nothing more than an empty phrase but his wicked mind was already running riot. After all he simply **_HAD_** to bed the famous dragon slayer proving the rumors to be true. Oh it was such an intriguing prospect and the Prince would do almost everything for it. “What a lovely promise.” He cooed before he returned the kiss eagerly much to his father’s distaste. Seconds too long his bruised lips had lingered on what his Sire so much desired to devour – to possess.

“Legolas…?” Thranduil warned, the prospect of being gagged still lingering dangerously in the air and with an exaggerated sigh of defeat Legolas kept quiet. A last stroke against Legolas’ cheek and Bard lowered his body until his hands rested against the silken sheets. Every motion was followed by the King’s hungry eyes and it certainly had the desired effect on the man. Lust and passion shone from the blue eyes and Bard felt flattered that this otherworldly and proud creature so much yearned for him. Gracefully he swung one leg across Thranduil’s own, followed by a hand. Slowly he began to crawl along the fair body of the elves, his long hair brushing against the glooming skin. Crawling wasn’t his usual demeanor nor were fluttering eye-lashes among his usual repertoire yet both he did with utter joy and satisfaction. Every motion, every tiny movement was commented by an appreciating nod or a warm smile.

There was no reason to ask as Bard already knew the answer, but still he did utter the question simply to hear the elf speak; Thranduil’s voice, now heated by frantic desire and lust had an utterly erotic effect on him. “So, King of the Elves” Bard found himself asking when he was nearly in the position his lover wanted him in, the subtle note of mockery still accompanying his words. “What do you desire?” Certainly he was beyond obvious but he didn’t care anymore – being in favor of such a beautiful creature was charming indeed and Bard was flattered (even if he would never admit it openly of course). Thranduil took his time to adsorb the sight Bard presented when he seductively began to crawl along his body, beginning at his feet.

“You.” The words were assisted by a gesture denoting the man to come closer. The comment, however had been unexpected and the elf’s lips quirked upon the remark. Legolas shrugged upon the desire that flickered through his father’s eyes and shook his head unseen. He couldn’t tell if he only said what he had to spark his jealously or if he truly desired the man to such an extent. For now, he simply was excluded and his father’s words told him that it wouldn’t change all too soon. With reluctance he swung his slender legs off the bed, shooting his Sire a hateful glance. So sensual, so beautiful – and he was trapped, excluded yet still involved, condemned to watch.

With an exaggerated sigh of annoyance that went unheard he climbed off the bed and sat down in the nearby chair, fuming inside. Aye – he was so exhausted that he possibly couldn’t do **_ANYTHING_** – but did that mean they had to?

Couldn’t they simple snuggle against each other, cherishing the sweetness of post-orgasmic haze. Kissing? Whispering words of adoration? Letting their fingertips wander across the heated skin? Apparently not! Legolas sighed again.

 _‘The tale about the dragon slayer – it MUST be true’_ – There simply was no other explanation for his father’s insatiable lust these days! (An assumption which was – of course – ridiculous in itself. Legolas usually simply didn’t notice it as he was the center of his Sire’s attention.)

Bard had remained in the exact position without touching nor kissing his lover until now, but holding the piercing gaze. Carefully he lowered his head further. “I thought as much” Bard said in the elf’s pointy ear. “Let me rephrase my question, then: **_HOW_** do you desire me?” Every word was assisted by a gentle touch, a kiss that barely lasted.

“What is this game we are playing, dragon slayer?” asked Thranduil, lacing his hands with the man’s calloused fingers. Even if he wasn’t a bargeman in the service of the master any longer but the rightful King of Dale, long years of hard work couldn’t be erased in only a few months – and Thranduil was thankful for it. The man’s entire physique, the hid muscles and rough fingers, his curly hair on parts he had never even thought it possible that hair could grow – was strangely fascinating for the elf.

Bard cocked an eyebrow upon the words - was it a game they were playing? He had never assumed such a thing. Aye – maybe a little he was toying with the proud elf, enjoying the subtle tease of his words, the delicate reactions Thranduil was offering. “Well…” he told him as he bent down his head again, pushing his hips against the prominent erection between the elf’s legs. “The game of desire – and passion. The game of lies?” Bard wondered where such eloquence came from all of a sudden. It must be the elves’ presence.

“Proceed with caution, then.” The smile lit up Thranduil’s face.

“Caution?” Bard rumbled, his breath tickling the skin on the elf’s neck. “How insanely boring.”

For seconds Thranduil was tempted to alter the entire plan he had for the night, throwing caution into the wind. Could he go further than he had ever assumed he could? Oh, well there were a thousand little secrets hidden in those two chamber of which Bard possibly had never even heard of, possibilities to please one’s lover of which Bard wouldn’t even think of in his wildest dream. Exploring the thrill of lust and pain, of burning passion and fearful anticipation. _‘Oh how beautifully you would look…’_ the elf’s mind began to drift off into a very distinct direction – but was this truly what he wanted? Thranduil had to ask himself and the answer was as simple as it was unexpected – even to himself.

NO!

He didn’t wish to gag nor bind his mortal lover, restrict his movements, and cover his hazel eyes.

“I will remind you at one point...” was all he said, his voice hitching when Bard liked along his exposed neck. Most likely the words wouldn’t be spoken this very night – nor would he be responsible for the situation Bard would find himself in but Legolas. Something in his son’s mischievous stare told him that some sort of wickedness occupied his pretty head, something which would truly surprise the King of Dale.

“You might.” Answered Bard as he shifted his head until his lips brushed against the silken ones of the Elvenking. “But I would prefer if we could skip the talk for once.” The words were never spoken as question but said as a statement.

Whilst the fingers of one hand traced his lover’s face, the other reached behind, taking the elf’s thick erection into its palm, giving the cock a few languid strokes until Thranduil moaned against his lips.

 _‘Good’_ was all he thought before he shifted his position just a little more until the tip brushed against his still stretched entrance. Slowly and deliberately Bard breathed in deeply and then began to sink down onto his lover’s cock, inch by careful inch.

“Oh by the Valar .. you feel amazing.” Bard found himself lost in the rapture of Thranduil’s smooth voice which by now carried a certain heaviness. Never would he tire of the obscenities his immortal lover had to say between the sheets, those sweet words of adoration which were elusively said for him even if Legolas was listening. However, he never exactly knew if those words were said in complete honesty but he couldn’t find himself caring anymore.

Bard wasn’t stupid – he knew he was a toy in their midst but it was all too easily to fall under the elf’s sensual spell, lulled into false security by whispered words and breathed lover’s talk. Even if it was just a beautiful illusion created only for him – he willingly indulged. Sparks began to sizzle in his exhausted body and a groan left his lips when the head of the thick erection slipped past his ring of muscles.

Bard exhaled again as he looked down onto his otherworldly lover with darkened eyes. He felt his stomach clench with anticipation and indescribable lust pulsed through his veins, pounding maddeningly against his throat. The odd mélange of sensation and pain began to form when he sank further down the elf’s cock until he had to pause for a moment giving his body the time to adjust to the alien invasion. Well – in comparison to those wicked elves he didn’t indulge all too often into such frivolities having three underage children to care for. But there was no need to tell them, right? The truth was that he hadn’t give into his desires ever since the fateful night in the ruins of Dale some month ago. A smile hushed over his face upon the pleasant memory and often said images have warmed his heart when the icy wind has howled through the deserted streets at winter’s peak.

The sight before him was truly intoxicating and he allowed his eyes to linger on the perfect skin that seemed to glow in the flickering candle-light. Thranduil was by far the most beautiful creature - he seemed ice-cold still but his skin was pleasantly warm, burning even under the touch of his hands. “What is it?” he heard Thranduil interrupt his musing just before the elf lifted his head from the cushions to kiss him.

“Nothing.” Bard said – it wasn’t the entire truth but it wasn’t a lie either and he was certainly not in the mood to

“Good – I was merely wondering if you will stare until your eyes drop out of your head or if you are actually planning on using me – properly.”

Now it was Legolas’ stomach which cringed – _‘use me? USE ME?’_ he grabbed the armrests with his hands until his knuckles shone white.

Certainly his Sire was doing this on purpose. To scold him, to anger and humiliate him.

Legolas **_KNEW_** he simply should keep calm. _‘Such anger is not suited for royality’_ it echoed in his head. He should keep calm – after all he knew that he was his father’s all and everything, the one who was most dear to him that ever existed. But he couldn’t, sparks of jealousy were flaring as soon as the words were said.

“I will – but forgive me that I cannot be fucked right away… like some other.” Bard framed the elf’s fair face with his trembling hands, smoothing his thumbs over the flawless cheeks until Thranduil closed his eyes.

“Believe me – it is a most welcoming diversion.” One of his hands ran affectionately up and down his the man’s spine and by now, Legolas’ hands were numb – and it was his very own fault and he hated himself for it. In silence he cursed them, insulted them with the most unflattering words that existed in the fair tongue of the elves – and he wished he could look away. But he couldn’t – too enticing the sight of his father’s cock in the quivering channel was, too intriguing the sight they presented together – for this he hated himself all the more.

Bard shot Legolas a meaningful, even pitiful glance across the shoulder after he had broken the searing kiss. “Do not care to bother, meleth-nîn. He would never admit it openly but he truly enjoys what he sees.” The King said, following his lover’s gaze until he met his son’s furious stare. “Don’t you?”

A sigh of defeat left the younger elf’s lips and he finally let go of the armrests. “Aye – I think so.” Legolas replied in an almost shy manner and to Bard’s surprise the words sounded startlingly genuine.

He shouldn’t enjoy what he see, he simply shouldn’t! Yet there he was! And how he enjoyed what he saw but soon his mind went astray into a very distinct direction. Instead of the man he was imagining it was him who was in Bard’s position with the slight difference that his hands were tightly bound behind his back. That his ankles were also tied together giving him little to no possibility to move. How his father would breach his barely prepared channel, how his body resisted to the thick erection, how a sharp pain would fill his quivering body. But Thranduil was relentless, placing both of his hands on his hips to push him further down until he cried out. And cried out again – until his thighs were burning from the alien position he was in. His father didn’t care (and more importantly - SHOULDN’T care!) about his whining. Instead he made certain to hit Legolas’ prostate with every thrust whilst he massaged his son’s lower stomach. Gently at first but soon he applied more pressure. Oh by the Valar, Legolas thought and let his eyes fall shut for brief moments. How he needed to pee but he hadn’t been allowed to use the rest room for hours. Gods yes – the mere thought about it revived his cock to hardness and absently a hand sneaked between his legs. When Bard moaned his eyes snapped open again – no he certainly couldn’t look away!

“I adore you, King of Dale” Thranduil was murmuring in between kisses. The corners of his lips were turned into a content and blinding smile, his eyes were half-closed already giving way to passion that clouded his mind. Usually, Legolas was occupied either doing something himself or being fucked – he had never had the possibility to observe the subtle changes in his father’s face when he began to drown in oblivion. And aye – despite all jealously, despite all previously muttered curses they were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

To some extend Legolas still found it odd to simply watch them and somehow it still remained a mystery to him how on earth this just could be _**SO**_ fucking arousing. It should repulse him – but it didn’t any longer, the scent of sex filling the secluded room.

Bard was fucking himself repeatedly, shifting his position every once in a while ever so slightly until the thick cock hit his prostate again. And again. “Oh fuck.” Bard cried out as he established a sensual rhythm, heaving his body up and down, up and down again whilst his hands clutched to the elf’s strong shoulders. Words of incoherence fell already from his bruised lips, interrupted by moans and gasps – and demanding kisses against his cheek, against his neck and ears. Their breathless moans went, apart from Legolas of course unheard in the heavy silence of the night, absorbed by the strong stones of the King’s chambers. Bard was at a loss already: the divine scent, the shining eyes of his lover, those slender fingers which touched him in the most sensual way possible.

He felt Thranduil turning his head slightly against the cushions, lifting it up even a little as he was mouthing at his cheeks, his hot breath ghosting over his sweaty skin. Aye, Bard’s stubble scratched against his lips, against his chin but it is an utterly pleasant stimulation and a welcoming diversion from the elves’ flawless skin. Thranduil felt his entire body beginning to shake, tremble under his lover’s careful ride. And yes seeing Legolas hungry eyes roaming over them fueled his desire only further.

Pain was soon entirely subsided and Bard was certainly enjoying himself greatly. His movements became soon more frantic, repeatedly he was pushing himself up until only the head of his lover’s cock was still inside him before he sank all the way down again. Again and again, every motion accompanied by a string of endless moans and needy whimpers – or heated kisses which were only interrupted by their whispered names. Oh it was glorious in every way imaginable.

“Wait …” he heard Thranduil’s silvery voice vibrating against his neck, the words followed by a gentle kiss. Still, despite all reassurance, Bard’s eyes snapped open in an instant and he lifted his head, tilting it a little to the side to meet his lover’s gaze. NO, he didn’t understand why on earth he should wait with anything as he – no actual both as the elf’s flushed cheeks told him as much – were enjoying themselves greatly. Why should he wait, even stop now. By all means this was ridiculous. The moment he wanted to inquire what this was all about he heard Thranduil speak softly again. “As pleasant as this is, King of Dale - I desire a closer proximity.” And with that said he gracefully lifted his body from the cushion and wrapped both of his arms around Bard’s waist pulling him close into the embrace.

Legolas’ stomach cringed again, this very position was simply not acceptable for some random paramour, was it? No, no – and thrice no! _‘Ada, I hate you!’_

All Bard could do upon the sudden change of position was to gasp aloud as his lover’s cock sank deeper into him than ever, pulsating against his stretched walls. “Holy shit.” It simply escaped him as blood began to rush to his face.

“Shhh.” Thranduil breathed in a low and soothing voice against his skin just before his lips began their journey from Bard’s neck towards his cheekbones, nibbling and biting occasionally. Despite the pain that again mingled with endless lust Bard forced a smile. Gods yes he wanted this and he had never dreamt of rocking back and forth in such an intimate way with his immortal lover. His arms began their journey across Thranduil’s perfect back, running up and down the elf’s spine whilst his lips decorated every inch with tiny kisses until his lover’s head fell backwards.

The Elvenking’s right hand was running repeatedly through Bard’s brown hair. The other arm came to rest around the man’s waist, pulling him closer into the kiss until his entire body shook with pleasure and the discomfort was finally subsided. Reassured by the tenderness of the touch against his head, Bard allowed his own hand wander into his lover’s long hair, feeling the silken strands between his fingers, cherishing the gooseflesh their ends elicited on the skin of his forearms. There was so much affection, so much sweetness in the caresses that Bard felt his world begin to spin – he had never expected nor experienced such a gentleness with the elf. Well – actually he had only once before the pleasure and the night they shared back then was dominated by a frantic satisfaction of carnal needs. But this – this so much more, so **_VERY_** different from the simply desire and lust which had occupied their minds in the elf’s tent, the feeling not being able to keep the hands from another. Loving, adoring - sweet even was this. And extremely to his liking. Bard gasped again upon his own thoughts. Sweet? Sweet?! No certainly it could not be – yet it actually **_WAS_** beyond sweet and it made his mind spin all the more.

Legolas was truly astonished by all the endless moans of pleasure that spilled so freely from his Sire’s lips whilst his mortal lover fucked himself repeatedly, rocking back and forth in his lap. Even if he was – at least until now - excluded from all the fun he couldn’t deny what an arousing sight they presented! Legolas watched them in strange fascination – no he stared! Never, not even once in all the years had he seen his blond lover kiss another, touch another. Aye, he knew it was happening occasionally but actually **_SEEING_** it was something different entirely.

Thranduil delicately lifted an eyebrow – Bard’s state of mind was not lost on him of course. And then he smiled. Generous and genuine before he changed the angle of their mouths ever so slightly – it was the exact same way how Thranduil kissed Legolas in sweet desire. Of course there was a reason why he did what he was doing; most of the things the Elvenking did served a specific purpose and Thranduil exactly knew what effect this demonstration would have on his jealous son. It was the thrill of finding out how exactly Legolas would react that made his heart pounding violently against his chest. And he wasn’t mistaken – Legolas response was as instant as it was predictable; a sigh of annoyance was followed by a hearty elvish curse.

 _‘How very adorable you are when you are angered’_ the King thought to himself as his mouth trailed along his lover’s jawline towards his ear. Carefully he began to suck one of Bard’s earlobes and teased it between his teeth until Bard cried out his lover’s name in frantic passion.

And another sigh of annoyance danced through the air– combined with countless moans from the man who continuously rocked back and forth on his cock, heaving his body up and down.

Oh this was divine!

Bard tilted his head ever so slightly to give his lover better access to whatever the elf desired to do to him. By now, completely dissolved by pleasure he had completely forgotten that they actually had a spectator (not that he would have cared all too much in the throes though). Again, the elf lips began to wander until they reached his mouth again; simultaneously Thranduil took Bard’s face between his large hands and pulled him close, covering the man’s bruised lips in another greedy and demanding kiss.

No – this was the point when Legolas couldn’t stomach the sight anymore – without being involved. His mouth stood ajar, his stare fixed on Bard’s strong body who so sensual raised up and down. _‘Oh by the Valar – I desire you.’_ He hadn’t even realized just **_how_** hard he had grown in the meanwhile. Legolas’ eyes glimmered with curiosity and he certainly would test his luck the Prince decided this very moment. Carefully he rose to his feet and bridged the little distance between the chair and the bed, sneaking between his father’s slightly parted legs. Where he had expected a snarky remark or at least a look of disapproval nothing ever happened. For moments, he did nothing but the look in Thranduil’s sparkling eyes which made it hard to concentrate, to decide how he would – could proceed.

As if his hands had a will of their own they began to roam freely over Bard’s scared back, gentle fingertips that were massaging the delicate spots beneath his shoulder blades whilst Thranduil’s hands ran up and down his spine. “Oh this is divine.” Bard commented - his voice was hoarse, his breath hitching, his entire body quivering with need. Actually he almost forgot to keep his pace, losing himself in the sweet sensation both elves brought to his heated skin.

Experimentally, Legolas leaned in further and began to softly to nibble at Thranduil’s lower lip which was easily accessible since his father’s head rested against Bard’s shoulder for the moment. Curiously he awaited the King’s reaction, scanning his face for any sign of disapproval. When there was none, he continued the caress, his heart ponding violently against his ribs. Never has he desired him more than in this very moment when he fucked the man, Legolas thought as he claimed the rosy lips fully, his fingers tightly entwined in his silvery hair.

“Are we becoming a little eager?” Thranduil said with a laugh.

“Do you mind?” Legolas cooed in response, quirking an eyebrow. Simultaneously his lips began to explore Bard’s throat.

“No – but it is not always everything about me, Legolas.” Corrected the elder. “The question is – does **_HE_** mind?”

“Certainly not.” Legolas spoke on the man’s behalf which earned him a disapproving look from his Sire but apart from that Thranduil remained quiet. As did Bard.

And Legolas was right so! How on earth should he mind?! They truly undid him – their identical voices, those lust-darkened blue eyes – everything was so alike that it was maddening. Bard didn’t know anymore whose lips grazed his throat, whose fingers were wrapped around his throbbing cock, whose tips of silken hair brushed against his thighs. The only thing he knew for certain was that it was the King’s cock buried deep within him, hitting against his overstimulated prostate over and over again until he was reduce to a quivering mess.

“GODS.” Bard cried out when he sunk down all the way again, soft hands squeezing his buttocks simultaneously and his lips were captured once more by Thranduil. The kiss was heated and full, their bruised lips meshing perfectly as they endlessly drew their breaths from each other’s mouths. For Legolas it felt as if they would NEVER stop what they were doing and patience was certainly not among the elf’s most prominent character traits.

“Ada…?” He looked up, catching his father’s unflinching stare. Allowing his eager son to silently please himself and his lover was one thing, disrupt the magical silence something entirely different.

“What?” snapped Thranduil matter-of-factly, obviously annoyed by his son’s words.A shrug served as Legolas’ only answer at first upon which Thranduil raised an eyebrow demanding a vocal answer immediately.

The fact wasn’t lost on his son and in an almost shy manner he inquired. “I .. I .. don’t you think our honored guest would enjoy the warmth of my mouth, too?” Bard had no idea if it was just faked innocence or if Legolas truly felt like he pretended to feel. Somehow shyness was a rather unexpected trait of the elf.

That was it? That was all he asked for? And - more importantly: since when did Legolas actually **_ASK_** for something alike? He couldn’t almost believe it. Futilely, Thranduil tried to bite back a hearty chuckle. “Oh Legolas my dear.” he breathed in response, his voice dripping with affection. “In what position am I to answer your question my beloved? I can decide this for you if it pleases me but Bard is a different matter entirely. Now, would you like to King of Dale?” The answer was written clearly across the man’s face, still the King desired to hear the words aloud. Inwardly a strange feeling of warmth and adoration began to spread – reluctantly his lover had been at first when Legolas had offered the indecent proposal, completely against the wicked idea to be precise and now it seemed as if this was the most natural to do. Things were getting really interesting, Thranduil mused, absorbing the divine sight of his mortal lover who was already utterly wrecked. Shadows were dancing across the glistening skin, so much darker than the one of his own kin was but not less erotic. Yes – given that Legolas would give his consent to what wicked ideas already occupied his head the upcoming years would never get boring but filled with endless passion.

“Aye..” Bard replied in voice of astonishment. What was the question even? Who on earth wouldn’t knowing what incredible and unnatural talent with his lips the King’s son had.

He had assumed as much. “Then please have the grace to turn around – facing the mirror as I have to admit that I wish to see you come undone riding me as if this was the last day on earth.”

The man swallowed hard and the prospect together with his lover’s words were nearly enough to make him come already, first droplets of pre-cum decorating his glistening cock. Thranduil only smiled. Before he would allow Legolas to do what he apparently desired most he grabbed a handful of blond hair and brought his son’s head towards his own and kissed him. Hard and savagely until Legolas’ body trembled, just to let his teeth sink into his son’s lower lip until blood tickled his tongue. “Enjoy my son.” He added with a generous smile towards him before he turned back towards his mortal lover. “Please turn around then?” he added softly, cupping Bard’s face with both of his hands..

“Your wish is my command.” His words nothing more than a heated breath but still heavy with arousal. A little to his own surprise he offered a small bow just before he climbed off the elf, groaning upon the sudden emptiness of his arse. There were three who could easily play the game of utter sin.

Thranduil leaned in once more and said in a not-so-quiet whisper, entirely unashamed of the filthy words: “Don’t be gentle with him.”

“We will see, King of the Elves. We will see” Replied Bard with a naughty smirk before he turned around, repositioning his body. Easily he impaled himself again on the Thranduil’s cock whilst Legolas fell to his knees right before him. Never – not even once before in his life had he met somebody who was as submissive as the King’s son. Who so much enjoyed to give pleasure with his wicked mouth; Oh and glorious and utterly talented he was! Bard’s thoughts were easily disrupted when Legolas began to lick away every droplet of pre-cum with the tip of his tongue, encircling the head of the man’s cock with his lips shortly after. Again and again and with every repeat the erection disappeared an inch further in the hot and wet mouth. Bard gasped audibly and absently his head fell backwards.

 _‘Oh I never knew what a gorgeous back-side you have’_ – This was not bad the elf had to admit – in fact it was an enticing sight truly to behold. Soft black curls were caressing the broad shoulders, tiny pearls of sweat running down his lover’s spine; to see his own cock disappear over and over between those glorious cheeks. “Oh if I would have known what wonderful effect my son’s mouth had on you I would have bid him sooner.” He commented, supporting his lover’s motions with both of his hands against his hips. A loving smile from the man was reflected by the mirror and just that very moment identical hands twined with his own. But not a second later Bard’s breathing came to a halt, the sharp intake of air catching in his throat when Legolas swallowed his cock completely.

Involuntarily the man arced and shook on top of Thranduil, his once steady rhythm was now becoming more and more disrupted but he didn’t mind and carefully he began to roll his hips instead. Absently the man buried his hands in the silken strands of Legolas who still sucked greedily, crying out in pure bliss and pleasure. This is the sweetest form of torment, pleasure at its sharpest, a searing flame that burnt him alive. Those divine lips, moist and wet slipped around his leaking cock smoothly until a low groan escaped his throat. Over and over he cried out, they led him to an ecstatic unraveling – again and again Legolas’ mouth sucked him in, desperately trying to meet his father’s pace. The elf did not care if he gagged or choked, if saliva was running down his chin. They were his sin! Fucking him until he was feverish, his entire body so sensitized that he thought he would faint from another touch alone. Aye – he was senseless, floating in a world of passion and sin!

“More.” Bard begged – the words were out long before he realized that he had said anything. With a loud plop his wet cock slipped out of Legolas’ mouth.

“Insatiability is a beautiful trait.” Legolas said with a charming smile, wiping away the wetness from his lips. “And you are beyond insatiable.” Slowly the elf began to resume his actions; licking along the tip of the erection, licking away his own saliva and pre-cum; but apart from this he hesitated, hoping to provoke a reaction from the man.

“So it does appear.” Thranduil commented calmly, his shining eyes directed towards Legolas who just looked as if he awaited the next command to be spoken. Yet it never came – instead Bard’s hand found its way to the back of his head. The Elvenprince mewled in protest when the man’s calloused fingers grabbed a fistful of his long hair, forcing his head back and him to look up. YES, yes, yes – this was exactly what the King’s son had hoped for, the reaction which he wished to provoke. Bard’s voice was hoarse, heavy with arousal. “Legolas..not this ..” Bard begun but he could not even finish his trail of thoughts. His words were lost in a string of moans when Legolas struggled free of his hold and began to suck around the cock in the most talented way, swallowing him down until he was buried to the hilt in the elf’s mouth. Only then, Bard’s hand found its way back to the elf’s head, weaving his fingers into the golden strands.

“Stop..” Legolas coughed weakly. For seconds Bard did not know if the elf spoke in honesty or if this was part of the little game the King’s son enjoyed so much. He decided it was the latter and kept him down until his continous gagging sent jolts through his body. The elf’s face flared up red upon the lack of air but he never stopped swallowing around the thick erection. Not until he allowed him to and Legolas took the offer, snapping for air as soon as he was released. Instead of the wicked mouth he now felt Thranduil’s slender finger’s scratching along his back, sneaking between his cleft

“Beautiful.” He stated observing how his cock slipped in and out of Bard’s quivering entrance.

Bard wouldn’t last long under their continuous ministration; a pity actually Legolas thought as the man tasted divine. But his time would come – sooner or later. He had always succeeded once an idea had begun to occupy his wicked mind.

Bard’s breathing and his heart rate started to climb rapidly if this was ever possible. And his breath hitched, the words nearly lost in another string of moans. With every thrust Thranduil made certain to hit his lover’s overstimulated prostate.

“Gods, this is too much.” “I .. I ..” The man nearly lost all his senses when his cock disappeared completely between Legolas’ rosy lips and brushed against the back of the elf’s throat. “Oh fuck!” it escaped him but both elves seemed completely unimpressed.

“No such thing is too much, King of Dale. Not here – not with us.” Thranduil told him but it were Legolas’ hands which began their journey across Bard’s chest, still tightly entwined with his father’s fingers, every motion accompanied by just another suck, every touch rewarded with a gasp or – when the elves’ fingertips brushed against his hard nipples a sharp cry.

“Enjoy yourself.” Certainly the King had said the words in mockery as it was undeniably obvious just how close to orgasm he already was.

No – he wouldn’t last. Not a second longer. Had he thought the night in the tent had been thrilling and arousing beyond measure he was entirely mistaken – this was heaven!

“Oh .. there .. is .. .” One last time he sunk down onto Thranduil’s cock, one last time he shoved his cock deep down the prince’s throat, watching Legolas’ eyes water – somewhere in the distance he heard Thranduil’s silvery voice whisper: “Come for me.” But it was nearly lost on him in his orgasmic haze. He came deep down Legolas’ throat who gagged and coughed around the twitching cock in his mouth, swallowing every droplet that hit his throat.

Bard’s world collapsed and stars were exploding right before his now closed eyes – the room swirled in a madding pace until he nearly lost consciousness. A last shallow thrust into the clenching channel, a last roll of his hips was enough to let Thranduil dive into the sensual beauty of orgasm, following his mortal lover him into oblivion. In the throes he scratched Bard’s back and chest until the man cried out in pain and pleasure. Wave after wave of pleasure shook him until he was certain he would pass out, his finger’s still entangled in Legolas’ silken strands.

“Oh holy shit what a ride.” Bard chocked out, his mind still veiled with post-orgasmic haze but finally he let go of Legolas’ head.

“I hope you have enjoyed yourself, King of Dale.” The elf replied huskily right after he let Bard’s lax cock slip out of his mouth, licking his lips that were curled into a bright but still mischievous smile. “As I myself clearly have.”

“This is indeed the most important fact, Legolas.” Said Thranduil with a laugh, mocking his son’s utter selfishness. Gently he rubbed circles across his lover’s bruised and sore back. In the heat of the act he had not even noticed how much pressure he had applied when he scratched along the tanned skin.

Bard couldn’t deny that he truly had enjoyed himself greatly. In fact he was still speechless, panting, snapping for air. Sweat glistening on his forehead, his cheeks burning red. “This .. this was intense.” And so much more – words did not exist to describe all the emotion he felt. But he was exhausted. Just so exhausted that he felt as if he would pass out the next moment.

Legolas rose from his kneeling position right in front of Bard who still tried to catch his breath. Bard’s eyes grew wide when he realized that Legolas had climaxed too! Without anybody touching or penetrating him. No – never would he have ever thought that something alike could actually lead to an orgasm. It was obvious yet still hard to believe. “Thank you ..” Legolas whispered, wiping away the last remains of cum from his lips with the back of his hand. There it was again, the mischievous twinkle in those shining eyes that was so telling.

“What?” Bard enquired as he climbed off Thranduil, laying down next to him.

Legolas followed his movements in an instant. “Well ..” The elf begun, playing with a strand of dark hair. “I had my appetizer – twice. I had a wonderful main-course.” He breathed against Bard’s bruised lips. “But what about a sweet and delightful dessert King of Dale?”

“Legolas!” Thranduil snapped, taken aback by surprise. Of course he should have known Legolas would not let the matter rest. Never! And actually it was crystal clear what his son imagined in his wicked mind that dessert to be like. “Stop being such a wanton whore.”

“What?” Legolas asked coyly. “I have learned only from the best.” Bard felt the elf’s gentle hands on him, running over his chest soothingly. Seductively. No – this was insanity!

“Do you elves grow NEVER tired?” Bard interrupted – he was wasted. Completely and utterly spent, lingering in a post-orgasmic haze on the Elvenking’s silken sheets. Covered in sweat and cum, sore and exhausted. Entirely content with the situation, having both elves caressing his skin, nibbling at his ears and lips. And he was ready, beyond ready for a peaceful slumber. Another round and his heart certainly would refuse to work.

“No.” they said in unison, words which were accompanied by equal laughter and two identical pairs of eyes staring down at him.

“Oh by all the gods I cannot.”

“Maybe after a little rest …?” Legolas asked, speaking slowly. His tone was almost condescendingwhich earned him a delicately raised eyebrow from his Sire. No words were needed to state his point and Legolas knew he did well not to push the matter further.

“What about you then…?” Legolas leaned in across Bard’s chest until he was only inches away from his father’s face. With a smile he whispered against the rosy lips, licking along them with half-lidded eyes. Carefully he touched his father’s cheek, rubbing his thumb along his jawline.

Fascinating and sinfully erotic. They were so alike in the soft candle-light who painted their ivory bodies in orange tones, their long hair in golden shades.

Bard gasped as he caught himself imagining how they devoured each other right in front of him, their hands and legs entwined, how they were moaning and panting in unison, whispering and crying the others name in the throes of passion. He never knew what pervert was hidden deep inside him but it seemed as if those damn elven made him revealed the utmost sinful thoughts which were safely hidden deep inside. Never meant to be discovered. Bard sighed in defeat (not that he truly cared though).

Thranduil groaned in played annoyance. Actually his appetite was sated but he was far from being worn out or tired in comparison to their mortal lover and certainly Legolas was up to something. Desire and wanton lust shone in his eyes, openly for everyone to see it. “Say - what occupies your pretty head, my precious?” Thranduil whispered as he began to play with the jewel-adorned nipples, twisting and squeezing them between his fingertips.

“Oh well” Legolas said, still pondering his thoughts how to reply. Easily he could ruin the entire situation and he knew it. A wrong word and nothing would happen at all. “I fear a thousand things – but kissing you is among the first things that come to my extraordinarily pretty head.”

“Stop being so arrogant and I might fulfill you desire.” He replied with a genuine smile, gesturing his son to come even closer. Legolas’ smile in return was radiant and it was as if his heart leapt from joy. Aye, every other would have stood up and walked around the bed, Bard mused rubbing his beard when the elf’s lithe body was directly above him – but not those damn elves; there was no reason when one could climb over the other. “No not like this. I want you here.” Thranduil shook his head when Legolas came to sit in front of him, pointing towards his lap. “Right here.”

Legolas’ smile only grew and he whispered: “My lover’s wish is my command.” And not a moment later, Legolas’ slender legs were wrapped around his father’s hips and his arms around his neck.

Bard didn’t know if they did it for him – and solely for him or what the true point behind it was. They were so gentle, so loving, so beyond sweet together. Soft caresses and lazy kisses which were interrupted by warm smiles were enough for both. Affectionate glances and tiny pecks onto the warm skin, their breath mingling in the sweetest way possible.

Was their wickedness the disguise or was it the mask of adoration? Bard couldn’t tell for certain but he was mesmerized by their display but sleep began to overwhelm him. They had worn him out, emotionally and physically – more than anything else ever had. Despite all the hesitation and prejudices he had had, the entire night had been sheer perfection. It was the only word that seemed to be befitting for what he had found in their middle.

“Ada?” Legolas whispered as his hand sneaked downwards giving his father’s cock a few firm strokes.

“By the gods.” Thranduil muttered in response. “You are insatiable. But no Legolas. Let us find some rest, too.”

“You are really getting old.” The words were assisted by a pointed look but his father was right (he always was). It wasn’t long before the sun would rise again.

“So be it – and after all every night announces a new day, does it not?”

Legolas smiled at the thought as he snuggled against Bard who lay utterly exhausted and spent in their middle. His eyes were fluttering shut upon the renewed tiredness that slowly began to consume him. Carefully he climbed off his father’s lap and back over Bard again who already was soundly asleep. “Sleep well, King of Dale.” He whispered as he lay his head down onto Bard’s hair chest, lacing his hands with his Sire across Bard’s stomach. “And most pleasant dreams.”

The even breathing, the softness of the touch guided them into a glorious and refreshing sleep.

**  
**

**~~**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A naughty surprise awaits Bard when he wakes up from his peaceful slumber.

**Chapter 10**

~~

The King’s son awoke with the very first light of the morning just as he did on most of the days, even if no ray of sunshine would ever reach the secluded chamber at the very end of the King’s private quarters. A hearty yawn left his lips and he stretched lazily with a content smile tucking at his lips. Actually he was in no mood to leave the soft pillows and velvet covers yet, but what else was there to do? Both his father and the man were still soundly asleep, possibly caught in the most pleasant dreams for long hours.All candles have long burnt down, veiling the room into a black shadow, nothing interrupted the peaceful tranquility apart from their even breathing. Still, the darkness bothered him. He already knew just **_HOW_** beautiful, how extraordinarily stunning his father looked in his sleep, but how did Bard? And more importantly – were his eyes closed or open whilst he slept? Rumors had reached his ears and he was curious ever since.

Legolas blinked into the darkness as he lay on his back, his head sunk deeply into the silken pillows as he pondered his thoughts of how to proceed. Would it wake them up if he would leave the bed to light some candles? Possibly not given their nightly activities, he decided. With utter care he swung his legs off the bed and made his way to the candle-holders, replacing the burnt down stumps against new candles which he lit instantly. Of course he had been right – neither Bard nor his father realized that he was already awake. They slept peaceful as ever.

“Better. So much better.” He whispered to himself as the candles chased away the darkness. For moments he simply watched the glorious sight before him before he sat carefully back down on the bed at his father’s side. No, he couldn’t keep his hands idle for a second and instantly he begun to play with a strand of silvery hair but apart from that Legolas refrained from touching either Thranduil or Bard. They were beautiful together he had to admit when his gaze fell on their sleeping forms; so different, yet somehow so alike. Dark as the peak of night and bright like the new day. There was only one difference – his father slept with his eyes open as he himself did whilst Bard’s eyes were completely closed.

_‘Are you alive?!’_ Of course those thoughts were entirely stupid and Legolas knew they were, yet he leaned in further to listen if Bard was still breathing and therefore alive. Aye – of course he was. Exhausted and sore possibly – but alive and well.

Mesmerized he still played with a strand of his father’s hair that ran like silk through his fingers, twirling it around his index finger until it sprang free. Again. And again

The seconds trickle by like hours, and soon the elf lost interest in simply watching over their sleep. Legolas was bored easily.

**~~**

“Ada?” A sweet voice assisted by a gentle touch against his chest startled the King from his peaceful sleep.

“Good morning my love.” Thranduil whispered in a dreamy voice his eyes still heavy, his vision blurred from slumber. Oh why on earth did Legolas wake him up? A sigh of frustration escaped him.

“Ada?” Legolas now squeaked in delight not all too quietly and without any hints of exhaustion. Apparently Legolas was awake since a long time already sitting on the bed cross-legged. It would always remain a mystery to the King where his son drew the energy from. “The tale about the Dragon slayer…”

Leaning in closer, Legolas could smell his father’s unique, alluring scent - the scent of the enchanted forest, the scent of moss after a warm spring rain – the scent of sex and arousal.  He closed his eyes once again, inhaling every component of this aroma, the spellbinding fragrance of pure seduction.

“Oh please not this nonsense again.” Thranduil said with an exaggerated sigh, rolling onto his side to meet his son’s eyes “I have heard already enough of this. Tell me, since when do you belief in such superstitious rumors?”

For moments, a petulant and pouting stare was all Thranduil received, followed by an impatient: “But …!” Absentmindedly, Legolas hands came to rest on his father’s chest but he still hesitated to deepen the endearments as if the beauty would disappear into the endless voids of his wicked mind.

Thranduil smiled once more, a genuine warmth spreading through his chest where Legolas’ hands began their exploration. How on earth should he ever resist the temptation? The inner demon which he had fought so many times? “What do you want, Legolas?” he inquired, lifting his son’s chin up. Slowly the implications of his son’s wicked mind began to wander through his mind and he sharply holds his gaze. "Do not try to play innocent with me. Something is up. And you will tell me what it is. Now.”

There was no room for disobedience left and Legolas knew it all too well. Thranduil watched the look on his son’s face turn from excitement towards defiance in less than a second and back to wicked excitement again.

An exaggerated sigh of defeat left Legolas’ lips – in all his excitement he was an open book to read for his father. “Well.” He began, playing with a strand of his father’s hair. “You know what I want. But I may repeat it for you: Bedding an actual Dragon slayer – and as the only one alive is lying right in our bed it would be a pity to waste such an unique opportunity, don’t you think?” Simultaneously he let his lashes fly knowing all too well that his father hardly could resist that very behavior. And he was right so.

“An hour – and not a second longer, Legolas. Understood?” Where his son’s skin was warm and silken, his own words were ice-cold, but Thranduil actually has given him permission to do whatever he desired to do with the man in their midst. He hardly could believe it. “Without restrictions?”

“Without ANY restrictions!” Nearly before he was finished Legolas’ arms flew around his neck and his entire face was covered by a million tiny kisses, happiness and gratitude filling his son’s sparkling eyes. How on earth should he ever deny him anything? He couldn’t – never could and Legolas gladly took advantage of his father’s weakness. Legolas wound his hand in Thranduil’s hair, holding on as he slipped his tongue into his father’s mouth, tasting and exploring.

“Legolas, I warn you!” Thranduil whispered between heated kisses as Legolas’ hand slipped determinately downwards. No, he had to stop this before his child became even bolder and wasted all his energy on him instead of the man. Not so gentle he pushed him away and rose to his feet, using one of the blankets to cover. “Well – ONE thing.” He said as he already was at the door. “Make certain that our honored guest cannot ride for several days. Will you?”

Laughter was the last thing Legolas heard before the heavy door fell shut behind the King, leaving him all alone with his prey. The elf arched an eyebrow, and shook his head in disbelief.

Still – after all those years his father could be a strange mystery. Even to him.

**~~**

Time seemed to slip through Legolas’ fingers as there were a hundred things which he wished to accomplish before the man would finally awake.

Bard’s face was so soft, so beautiful in his sleep that Legolas was tempted to wake the mortal man just now, throwing all caution and plotted plans right into the wind. Actually for brief moments he was completely torn of how to proceed. Gently he brushed his thumb against Bard’s bruised lips, relinquishing in the softness of the skin. The faintest of smile was playing on them, telling Legolas that his dreams apparently were of the most pleasant sort. _‘No wonder after all the bliss you have experienced with us’_ he arrogantly thought to himself as he pushed a brown curl out of the man’s face with gentle fingers.

With uttermost care Legolas reached under the bed to fetch the casket that was hidden there, the casket which kept plugs, silken ribbons and delicately ornamented hand and feet cuffs securely stored. Silently he retrieved everything he needed for his wicked idea and began to secure Bard’s left arm. At first he almost hesitated to fasten the leather band around Bard’s wrist, afraid that the man’s slumber would be disturbed by the touch against his skin. But nothing ever happened. His breathing was even as ever, his eyes tightly closed and so Legolas became bolder soon, excitement rushing through him. During his process he placed an affectionate kiss onto Bard’s slightly parted lips, touching his cock beneath the velvet sheet every now and then. Aye, he even poked his stomach once – but no reaction at all could be observed. The fact that Bard did not even stir in his sleep whilst he was busy tying his arms and legs to the bedposts truly amazed Legolas and more than once he had to make certain that Bard was still alive.

“Beautiful.” It escaped him when both arms were securely tied to the bed. Marvelous, truly a piece of art. His piece of art, made only for him to enjoy. Sadly his father could not see just HOW much he had learned all those past centuries. Inwardly Legolas squeaked in delight but he had to swallow his excitement. He wasn’t done – not nearly.

With a radiant smile and a lot of anticipation rushing through him he shifted his position towards the end of the bed and continued his work with Bard’s feet. Was the man ticklish? Was he? WAS HE? Oh it was impossibly hard to resist the temptation! But he had to, at least for once. Within seconds both feet were secured to the end of the bed, but in comparison to his arms he had more freedom – well he certainly would need it later on, Legolas thought with a chuckle.

“Oh so beautiful you are, King of Dale. Mine – and mine alone! Oh but such a pity that you do not know about your luck. Yet.” The elf moistened his lips and stared mesmerized down onto his prey, wishing he could kiss those rosy lips in savage, tasting their sweet flavor again. “Soon – all too soon.” He told himself and sat down between Bard’s now spreaded thighs cross-legged.  

One – Two – Three – Legolas counted in silence but nothing ever happened. Where he had hoped that the man’s eyes would snap open the moment he had accomplished his devilish plan nothing ever happened. Bard was still wandering the realms of dreams until Legolas couldn’t take it anymore being as impatient as ever.

“Bard…? Baaaaard…? Good morning..” The elf’s melodious voice appeared as if from nowhere; was he still caught in his dream or was he already awake? Bard couldn’t tell for certain. His dreams had been utmost pleasant, reviving their night of sin over and over again until they appeared to be real. The gentle touches, the searing kisses and their frantic yet loving coupling – he truly felt as if he had found heaven on earth this very night.

Legolas’ fingertips caressed Bard’s sides and his stomach, his thumb teasing at the join of hip and thigh before his hand wandered further up, gently brushing over the man’s nipples. Gods, the elf wished to never stop touching him and Legolas wondered why he allowed such tenderness when all he desired to do was to fuck his father’s lover into oblivion. He had no explanation for it. Soon his hands were followed by his entire body until he came to sit astride of Bard, entirely content with the situation they were in. Oh but his heart leapt in joy – he couldn’t await the man’s reaction when he would find out that he was helplessly tied up. How long it would actually take until Bard’s mind processed what these special arrangements meant. But the goddamn man didn’t wish to let go of his peaceful slumber it seemed.

Carefully Legolas lowered his upper body. “Finally.” he was whispering against the crook of Bard’s neck the moment he realized the other had finally awoken. “I’ve always desired to have desert for breakfast.”

The alluring scent of fresh violets that escaped Legolas’ golden hair nearly took Bard’s breath away, the ends tickling against the skin of his shoulders and his eyes snapped open in an instant. _‘Desert? Desert?’_ Bard had heard those words from the elf before but he couldn’t make the connection. Not yet.

A moment passed in taut silence.

“Legolas is that you?” Bard inquired with a sleepy voice and a little astonishment. He blinked – once, twice as Legolas watched him expectantly a radiant smiling playing at his lips. It was a mystery how Legolas could be beaming with life already, not showing a single sign of fatigue or exhaustion when he felt numb, exhausted, wasted. Carefully he tilted his head to the sight where Thranduil had rested but the King were nowhere to be seen. “Where is your father?” he asked.

Actually Bard had expected to wake up between those wicked elves but apparently only Legolas was present. Completely awake and smirking mischievously down at him. It should have already told him that something was amiss, that some wickedness occupied the elf’s mind but Bard was still too tired to notice the hungry gaze. The only thing he realized was that every muscle, every tendon of his body hurt, that he was exhausted as he hasn’t been for many months.

Sore, bruised, exhausted – and tired. So fucking tired!

Bard yawned again nosily and pressed his exhausted body against the mattress, feeling his eyes fall close again with overwhelming fatigue. They have exquisitely wasted him.

_‘Truly a night to remember’_ he mused to himself, coming slowly back to his senses when Legolas remained silent.

“Fulfilling his regal duties.” Legolas lied nonchalantly, letting his slender fingers run along Bard’s hairy chest. He wasn’t any different than his father in that matter; both held a strange fascination with the man’s body hair and would certainly never tire to spend hours playing with it. So soft, so very different from their hairless bodies. Well - in fact Leoglas had not the slightest idea what exactly his father did in this very moment – possibly the King did nothing at all but Legolas could swear that at best he would like to watch them.

It was the moment when Bard decided to stretch his aching body that he realized he was constrained and his eyes snapped open in an instant.

“What is this?” he inquired in a shocked voice but Legolas didn’t respond vocally. Instead the elf began to mouth along his neck, placing feather-light kissed to the tip of his shoulder-blade, onto the edge of his collar-bone. Each kiss was followed by a gentle touch until tingles of pleasure began to spark through his exhausted body.

Bard was at a loss – it was as if the disguise from last night has vanished like the mirror behind the curtains. He could easily be mistaken for the innocent Elvenprince Bard had always assumed the King’s son was – never, not even once has he assumed that such a whore was hidden beneath the mask of innocence. But he was truly mistaken in a great many things when it came to Mirkwood’s royal family he had to admit. In the meanwhile Legolas’ fingers skimmed his side, his ribcage whilst his lips encircled one of his nipples, soon followed by careful sucking. Bard has just awoken but he was flushed already, half-drunken to the elf’s divine touch again. With a sigh of anticipation he allowed his eyes to fall close – certainly Legolas would untie him soon.

The tip of his tongue teases the edge of Legolas’ grin, observing Bard’s reaction closely. “You have been so curious for what those were for yesterday night.” The elf began to explain as his fingers constantly wandered downwards. “I already thought it a waste not to use them yesterday but the situation did not allow it. Now however..” he added, but soon his mind went astray and a light chuckling disrupted the silence when his fingertips brushed against the semi-hard erection which made Bard swallow even more. Legolas stroked the man’s hairy stomach in gentle circles, savoring the alien feeling against his fingertips. “.. I am glad that we haven’t used them. Now you are mine – and mine alone.” The words were nothing more than breathed whisper against the still wet nipple which sent a jolt through Bard’s body. “I always wished to devour you, having you at my mercy. Now – how does that sound?” The smile that graced Legolas face was beaming.

Realization hit Bard like a painful punch in the stomach and breath caught in his throat.The last thing that what on the elf’s wicked mind was to undo the restraints! “Legolas – WHAT?” he tried to fight against the cuffs once more equally futile as previously – and Legolas’ smirk only grew. “Undo the cuffs. NOW.” He demanded as he struggled faintly, trying once more to push himself up.

Legolas shook his head and something feral awakened in the elf’s eyes, something Bard had never seen before among the elves.

“No.” The answer was as simple. Frustration grew when Bard realized that Legolas seemed to have this very scenario rather planned out in his wicked mind, probably for many hours. A heavy sigh left the man’s lips – in fact he shouldn’t be as surprised as he was. Most likely the elf had thought of this before and in great detail but had taken great care to hide. At least from him – the King was a different matter entirely and Bard couldn’t help but wonder if Thranduil actually knew what his wicked son was up to.

However, his thoughts were interrupted by the elf’s melodious voice once again. “Oh how wonderful you look. Still half asleep and exhausted from my father’s caresses. Bruised and swollen. Tied up. Helplessly struggling. And rightful all mine to have. Beautiful, is it not?” His soft hands glided over Bard’s shoulders down his hairy chest and up again, carefully playing with one of the man’s nipple which instantly sprang into hardness beneath his gentle touches. Pleased with the reaction the elf’s slender fingers resumed their journey downwards, drawing circles around his navel just before his hand was slowly slipping lower to explore every curve, every inch of skin he could access.

‘ _Like father, like son. You are both insatiable’_

Did he truly mind? No. Certainly not. But wouldn’t the King condemn everything which was supposed to happen?

“Your father..?” Bard began but the elf cut off his words in an instant. Actually Legolas has expected this question to come sooner or later. “Is not here and does not matter for the moment.” Replied Legolas as the journey of his hands became bolder, questing. Exploring every inch of the man’s scarred and hairy skin that was so different to his own. Strangely fascinating and even more arousing.

“Not only a night but also a morning to remember, then I assume?” Bard laughed, his lips curling into a cheeky smile – it was beyond obvious where this would lead, still he was curious of what exactly the elf had planned.

“Indeed – a morning you will remember as long as you live, King of Dale. Lay back and relax – and trust me that I have learned a great many things those past 950 years.”

“Of that I do not have any doubts.” Perfection – anything else would not be accepted by the elf’s proud father of that Bard was certain and as soon his thoughts were finished a visible shudder rushed through him. Actually by now he had almost forgotten about the illicit and forbidden nature of their relationship, and much to his shame he had to admit that he didn’t bother too much. Couldn’t bother any longer. They were so sweet, so gloriously wonderful together – it was so wrong what they did yet it seemed so very right. _‘All morals and dignity forgotten’_ mused Bard to himself.

_‘Make sure he cannot ride for the next few days’_ had been Thranduil’s last words before he had left the royal bedroom, and Legolas would do **_EVERYTHING_** to let exactly this happen; and so much more. In his wicked mind he already imagined how he would fuck the man – slow and deliberately at first, torturing him in the most sensual way possible before he would set a hard and brutal pace, until all senses would leave the famous dragon slayer. But this wasn’t enough – no. Legolas wouldn’t be himself if he wouldn’t make certain to give a show to remember. The elf licked his lips in anticipation as he imagined how he would fuck himself into oblivion, riding the still restricted man as if it was the last day of his life.

Aye – he would give a show to remember. For Bard and his father who certainly would be back on time. Oh YES – a childish anticipation stirred with him – oh he would make certain that Thranduil would catch them in the throes of passion. His father had been so very right by saying he’s an attention whore – he was possibly the worst attention whore in the entire Kingdom.

“Legolas?” Bard asked but did not obtain any answer of the elf who was deeply lost in his wicked musing. Absently he brought his hand between the man’s legs and started to stroke the semi-hard erection that lay between them, squeaking in delight when the cock hardened completely under his touch.

Oh those damn elves!

“LEGOLAS?” he repeated loudly and indeed the words had an effect on the prince.

“What?” he cooed in response withdrawing his hand momentarily which made Bard groan in frustration. No this wasn’t exactly what he desired the elf to do – he simply would rather prefer to **_KNOW_** what Legolas was up to.

“What is this all about?”

Legolas laughed at that, shaking his head. And then he looked back to meet Bard’s stare, wondering if he should have mercy with him. At least a little, maybe? But no, he was enjoying the game far too much.

“You and me, I guess?” he asked rhetorically and it was certainly not the answer Bard wished to hear but all of a sudden those divine hands were wrapped around his cock again, stroking it languidly.

_‘Holy gods’_ not only the mouth was utterly talented Bard had to admit.

Without even wanting it his eyes fell shut and he moaned out loudly, his hips thrusting towards the eager hand.

The elf’s voice was dripping with adoration and heavy with arousal. “Oh so impatient you are of being fucked already – utterly beautiful if you allow me to say so.”

Legolas leaned in just a little, patting him on the top of the head. “Good boy.” he said, moving his other hand away from the man’s cock down his cleft.

“But as you have been so curious… I will tell you what this is all about.” With every cooed word his index finger wandered an inch further.

"We fuck..." Legolas declared just before he grabbed Bard, pulling him into a rough kiss, devouring the bruised lips until the man squirmed beneath him. Aye, the elf was entirely pleased with the effect the kiss had. "Well. Let me correct my words: I'm going to fuck you, King of Dale." Legolas said. It was a statement of fact, never meant as a request. “And do you know what? There is nothing – absolutely nothing you can do against it.” Of course Legolas would never proceed if Bard would speak his sincere protest but there was no need to tell the man, was there? And apart from that, lust clearly shone from the hazel eyes and if this wasn’t enough reassurance the hard erection between the man’s legs told more than enough. “How do you like this?”

“Bastard!”

“Yes yes yes.” The elf laughed, squeezing Bard’s cock firmly. “Pardon me, but it seems as if you have a weak spot for bastards it seems. Or does bastard simply mean YES in the tongue of men?” Upon this Legolas laughed all the more and there was nothing Bard could speak in protest. (not that he truly wanted though) His body betrayed him – once more. For Bard it was intriguing, completely out of the ordinary – never, not once he had thought he could enjoy to completely relinquish control and he was not entirely certain if he could. But it was definitely worth a try.

Taking the man unprepared would certainly ensure that his father’s request was fulfilled but Legolas was many things but never cruel or uncaring. Aye he would take him hard and rough until he forgot his own name – and the name of his three children, too - but safety always came first. Letting go of Bard’s cock he retrieved a flask of oil from nearby which he uncorked instantly. Not a second too long he wished to wait – time was precious this morning.

“Good then.” Legolas stated as he spread Bard’s legs further and lifted his hips to allow him better access to what he desired to touch. Hastily but still with care and affection he prepared his lover with his fingers until Bard ached and squirmed under his touch, rubbing soothing circles across his stomach when he felt pain occupying the man’s mind. When the third finger found its way inside, Bard felt his chest tighten up and he took in a sharp breath, biting down on his lips not to cry out. Aye, last night paid its toll on him as it seemed. He was still sore, yet so aroused at the same time and he would gladly accept the slight discomfort knowing what firework will await him at the very end.

“I fear this has to be sufficient” he heard Legolas whisper against his lips. Carefully the elf withdrew his fingers and began to position Bard’s legs around his waist and himself between them. “Shall I?” his voice was rough and heavy, so very different than it had been previously. But no less arousing. Legolas’ hands cradled his hips and hold him steady, his grip solidifying with every second that passed in silence.

Bard only managed to nod, overwhelmed by all the emotions that rushed through him.

The silent consent was reassurance enough and so he did. One careful thrust until he was completely buried in the pulsating heat, until Bard thrashed and squirmed underneath him, struggling against the restraints. He kissed him. Savagely and breathlessly, devouring every inch of Bard’s mouth until he was short of air.

“No wonder my father can’t stop fucking you and wants you elusively for himself.” Legolas said when he paused his movements to give Bard the opportunity to adjust to his erection. “You feel truly wonderful.” Never before had Legolas had so much control over another human being but he had to admit that this was extremely to his liking, so much more than he ever thought possible. Usually it was himself who was gagged and bound, unable to move, unable to mutter his protest, the one who submitted willingly to his father’s will – this was a most welcoming diversion and he would savior every second which was granted him.

Legolas inhaled sharply as he began to thrust. Even if he was careful a frantic keening whine from the man’s throat was the instant reward and Bard himself was not entirely certain if pain or desire was the very reason for it.

“Hush now.” Admonished Legolas with a laugh. “Do not pretend you are a virgin as we both know you are not.” He gripped his face tightly and pulled him into a hungry kiss, hoping that all pain would soon be subsided. Obviously it helped as Bard’s body relaxed beneath him and from then Legolas simply couldn’t hold back any longer. For so long – ever since the rumors had reached his ears - he had dreamt to bed the famous dragon slayer and now it was finally happening. His thrusts soon became more frantic, aiming at Bard’s prostate repeatedly until the man cried out beneath him. In his naughty mind he had imagined to fuck the man for hours – in truth he wouldn’t last more than a few minutes! By now, Bard’s wrists and ankles were burning from the cuffs around them but the subtle pain only highlighted his own bliss. This was truly odd – how on earth could pain multiply the beauty of pleasure? Never before has he experienced anything alike and he still didn’t trust the illusion, letting his eyes fall shut.

Bard couldn’t even explain where the thoughts came from: “Have you ever ….?” He began but the elf’ cut him short.

“Fucked the King?” Legolas asked rhetorically with a hearty laugh, answering the question not a second later himself. “Oh countless times.” With every word his smile only grew – actually he was certainly holding a privilege in that matter. And he was proud, incredibly proud that he seemed to be the only one who could relish in the sweet pleasure it brought to the King. “Do you actually think my father could resist those wonderful feelings? Certainly not! Yet he can hardly spread his royal legs for a random paramour, can he?”

“Apparently his son can spread his royal legs for half the Kingdom.” Bard said with an equal smile tucking at his lips.

Where Bard has expected a searing kiss, the elf had something entirely different in mind. Without warning he bit into his bottom lip until he could taste blood against his tongue and Bard cried out in simultaneous surprise and shock. There were black spots dancing over his eyes as he looked up at him with blurred vision.

“What the fuck?” he snapped harshly. “You sadistic bastard.”

The only response he received from the damn elf was a broad smirk followed by a seductive lick along his blood-covered lips.

It was hard to keep track of how much time had already passed since his Sire had left them and time seemed to slip through his fingers. Gods there were so many things he wished to do, to say – in privacy, unseen!

“Odd isn’t it.” Legolas panted, overwhelmed by the divine bliss. Fucking the dragon slayer was better, so much better than he had ever hoped it to be. He already could feel his stamina growing with every second. “Not a day ago you said we are insane – wicked perverts. And now look at you just **_HOW_** much you enjoy yourself.” Several languid strokes against his weeping erection sent Bard into otherworldly heights of pleasure which made it impossible to say anything in response. Words, however, mattered little to nothing anymore. Eagerly he began to meet the elf’s thrust (at least so much as the restraints allowed it), struggling to keep up with the maddening pace. And he thought he had fucked Legolas properly the previous night. No he hadn’t if he was comparing what was happening to him right now with last night. He was completely dissolving as he heard the heavy wooden door crack slowly open through a veil of moans.

 

**~~**

When the heavy wooden door creaked open barely audibly, Bard’s heart missed a beat and his eyes snapped open in an instant. Until now he wasn’t certain how much Legolas had told his father about this – if he had told him anything at **_ALL_**! The Elvenking’s temper was easily sparked, his outbursts legendary and Bard prayed to the gods that no tantrum would follow, least of it now. Tied up onto the King’s own bed with spreaded legs, sweating and writhing beneath his son – he was utterly exposed, vulnerable and helpless. Completely at the King’s mercy. (if Thranduil had any) Where worries ceased his brows, Legolas seemed to be entirely unaffected by his Sire’s sudden presence; he didn’t even bother to turn around but kept his insane pace until a moan slipped past his tightly sealed lips.

_‘Fuck.’_

“Oh the morning’s entertainment.” Commented Thranduil with an indulgent smile just before he closed the door carefully behind him and swept towards the heavy chair that stood nearby the center of attention. “The dragon slayer in chains.”His voice was calm, firm even but the subtle notes of enjoyment were certainly present. “How utterly enchanting.”

Absently a sigh of relief left Bard’s lips.

The King was not dressed any more provocatively than he had the last time, Bard thought. But still there was something about the dark velvet robes that gave him a special appearance. If it was his alluring scent or his kingly aura that was spell-binding, Bard couldn’t exactly distinguished – but the elf has never looked more arousing. And certainly the vain bastard knew exactly what his appearance had an effect on his mortal lover. The smile only grew as he began to spread his robes further open, exposing his flawless torso.

“Do not be bothered by my presence.” he said as he sank down into the chair, stretching his back against the expensive leather. “But give me a show to remember.”

“Your wish is my command, my King.” Legolas cooed.

And that they did. Well – Legolas did, keeping true to his word, his father’s request echoing in his head whilst he fucked the dragon slayer into oblivion until sweat was covering Bard’s forehead and strands of dark hair were clinging to his damp skin.

Just how the King had desired: Bard was not able to leave the Halls of the Woodland realm for an entire week.

 

**~~**

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As this fic finally comes to an end I want to say a HUGE thank you to all my faithful readers. Thank you for all the kudos, the beyond lovely comments, the support I received both here and on tumblr. It really made me happy and without all of you this story wouldn't be what it is now - a 60k kink fest. Seriously - I never expected this to happen. I wanted to write something like this and had 10, maybe 20k in mind. But not multichapter and certainly not 60k. Oh well. Just <3 **

**Author's Note:**

> **if you've enjoyed it, i would be really really happy if you would leave a comment <3**


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